#he KNOWS he can have a body but he doesn't say anything

[grvait]

old art again!! this time a rough animation of sawyer and yarnaby 😎 (looks better if u click to view 😭)

im working on a short ppt animation rn. im thinking i should post it to my youtube channel, though im not sure if people here would see it. i think i can link videos on here?? idk

okay I'm gonna talk abt more chapter 4 stuff.. this time about prototype's previous identity.. ch4 spoilers and also a theory below..

hiding the solo yarnaby under here LOL

people theorized 1006 was elliot, which was recently disproven in the chapter 4 tape where poppy refers to elliot as her dad and wishes he were there. in the same tape she addresses prototype as a completely different person. also recall that elliot died in the 90s, meanwhile prototype met theo in 1989. so yeah, they aren't the same person

I've also seen people say rich is prototype, which cannot be true either. in a ch4 tape he speaks to one of the boys who eventually got turned into doey. the kid mentions his coworkers joking about him going missing. before the bbi, it would not make sense for this to be a common rumor at the company, which means this tape had to happen after harley was hired in 1990; at a time when the company would have a reason to silence people

prototype existed in 1989 at the minimum, but considering he says "it's always been about you and me" to poppy, he's likely the prototype of HER. she's elliots daughter, she died in the 60s, meaning prototype was probably created around that time as well.

this means that rich can't be the prototype because he was human long after prototype was made

if you want my take on who prototype truly is, i'd say his identity doesn't necessarily matter. i don't mean to say his origins aren't important, just that his name and specific role in the past probably doesn't mean anything in the long run. i've never believed he was elliot or rich, and maybe in the future i'll be proven wrong but for now i'll tell you the theory i've had since june of last year

elliot's daughter dies in the 60s. he divorced his wife in 1930, so his daughter is probably in her 30s when she dies. she gets sick or injured, maybe she's actively dying or already dead by the time elliot begins his research. he looks for ways to bring her back, but it doesn't work on the rats (as he mentioned a note in the 2nd chapter)

so what does he do? he tries it on something bigger as he said he would: a human. of course he's not going to try this experimental method on his own daughter, even if she's already dead, so he finds someone else to use it on. we know that elliot wasn't evil or anything, so it's unlikely he killed anybody to use for the experiment. considering the orphanage isn't open yet (it opened in the 70s, not the 60s), prototype probably wasn't an orphan child either. if i run with my simple version of the theory, elliot may have dug up a body in a graveyard and used that. maybe a fresh one, who knows. he tried it, it worked, then he revived his daughter with the same method.

this is likely what harley wanted to know about in the chapter 3 tape (the "i learn something new about you every day" one), and also what prototype is asking harley to figure out in the ch4 tape they're both in. in that case, sawyer never actually figured out how to revive people with the poppy substance. sure, he can transfer people into the toys, but he can't bring anybody back to life

more reason to believe prototype and poppy are of the same "batch" is because it seems they are the only two who don't need food. it's outright stated about him in the ch1 trailer, and insinuated with her saying the "toys will starve otherwise" when she's talking about how nasty them eating humans is. she refers to them, not herself. her and prototype are probably the only 2 who were ever brought back from the dead, which circles back around to his monologue and gives meaning to the "it's always been about you and me, poppy. what we are". when i heard him say that i felt like my theory was lowk confirmed 😭😭

no guarantee this is right, but it's been my guess for a long time

[insidekatmind]

His- Hwang In Ho

Wearning: +18,slight smut

You are sitting on Hwang In-ho's lap with his cock inside you, in a black room lit only by the soft light of the large screen in front of you. His face is calm, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor, where the players move slowly during the game of “One, two, three, star.”

His hand, warm and firm, rests on your thigh. His fingers move slowly, tracing circles on your bare thigh. It's a gesture that should make you uncomfortable, but there's something hypnotic in the calm with which he does it, as if it were natural for him to have that kind of control over you and everything around him.

You were sitting on him, with his cock inside you. You didn't move, you just warmed up his cock while he enjoyed the sensation.

“You're lucky you're not there,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. His eyes do not move away from the screen, where a newly fallen player is mercilessly eliminated.

“Lucky?” you repeat, almost in disbelief. His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, as if to remind you that you have no choice.

“Yes,” he replies, finally looking down at you. His face is serious, but there is a hint of something deeper, almost tender, in his eyes. “I would never have let you be among them. You are too precious.”

You feel a shiver down your spine. It's unclear whether it's fear, attraction, or a disturbing mix of the two. In-ho looks back at the screen, but doesn't stop stroking your thigh, the movements now slower, more deliberate.

“I don't understand why you chose me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

“Because you don't belong to that world,” he replies without hesitation. “You are too young, too beautiful to be thrown away like one of them.”

His words hit you like a rock. You know that his protection is not entirely altruistic; you have become his possession, something he wants to keep away from the rest of the cruel world. But you can't help but wonder if, deep down, there's a part of him that wants more than that.

The game on the screen continues, but in the room time seems to have stopped. His hand on your thigh, his slow, controlled breathing, and his commanding presence are all you can feel. You're caught between the desire to escape and the strange, twisted safety and excitement you find in his arms.

You close your eyes feeling the feeling of his cock inside you without it moving or anything, You leaned into his chest and he grunted softly as he stopped your hips so you wouldn't move. A soft, subtle smile appears on In-ho’s lips as you leaning against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your skin, and his strong arms around you.He lets out a soft, contented sigh, appreciating the intimacy of your touch.“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted something like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry.

His hand runs through your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. He seems to be lost in thought, but his eyes never leave your face.“You’re beautiful,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

You blushed at his words as you felt his cock throb inside you and you moaned, you wanted to move on him so bad but he wouldn't let you. Your moan doesn’t go unnoticed by In-ho, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans towards your ear, his lips barely touching your skin as he whispers, “I can feel how much you want to move.” His grip around your body tightens slightly, keeping you in place. He enjoys the anticipation, the fact that you’re at his mercy completely.

“But I like to have you like this for a little while longer,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. You moaned softly as your pussy tightened around his cock, you wanted to ride him so bad but you nodded at his command.

In-ho lets out a low growl as he feels you tighten around him. He can't help but feel a surge of desire, but he holds back.His arms remain wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling a little faster."Be patient," he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and firm.

You nod, closing your eyes, enjoying this sensation. In-ho can feel how much you’re enjoying the situation, and it makes him smile. He's enjoying it too, the control he has over you, the way your body reacts to his every touch.

He leans in closer, his lips gently grazing the side of your neck. “You're so sensitive,” he purrs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love how responsive you are to me.”

You moan softly at his words. In-ho takes notice of your every reaction. He loves the effect his words have on you.He begins to place kisses along your neck, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. He alternates between light, feather-like kisses and more firm, lingering ones, his lips moving slowly as he takes his time.

“I'll make you ride my cock when this game ends, but for now, warm it up for me like you're doing,” he murmurs through kisses on your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. He's in complete control, and it's both exciting and maddening.

“Of course,” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you respond to his command. In-ho nods approvingly, his lips still moving against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble.

His hands run up and down your back, exploring every inch of your body, making sure you feel the weight of his presence.The game on the screen continues, and you knew you had to wait. You were anxiously waiting for this game to end so you could finally have everything you want.

[whiskis]

A/N: Hi there! For those who don’t know, first part is here. (If that link doesn't work, try suscribing for free to Patreon and check this one) Enjoy!

Orc professor (part 2): late for class

Orc x chubby fem!reader || power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism (kinda), oral sex, size kink, age gap, degradation, praise kink

“If you want to show me your pussy, my cum better be leaking out of it. Do you understand?”

His words still echoed in your brain when you were getting dressed the next morning. You were already wet, and you fingered yourself to the memory of his dick in your pussy last evening. You were a bit sore, but the fact that you could still feel him made everything more intense, hotter… sexier. And it made everything so much better.

You decided to wear your pencil skirt this time, and blame it on your bad luck, but you spilled your coffee all over it. Cursing yourself, you changed as fast as possible, but not fast enough that you could get to class early as you knew you should.

By the time you arrived, he was writing something on the board. “Good morning, sir,” you enunciated very slowly, looking at him for directions as you saw the other few students entering behind you.

He turned around and stared at you with such intensity you felt your whole body react. You were almost panting, biting your lip not to groan out loud. “Good morning. You can sit down while I go to my office for a second.”

The other two students nodded and he passed you on his way to the door. He looked at you in such a way that you knew what you had to do without him having to say anything. You let your stuff on your usual seat and smiled at the girl who sat next to you, mumbling about going to get some coffee before class. She nodded with a smile and you had to stop yourself from running to his office.

You arrived just in time for him to pull you inside by the waist, pressing you against the door and kissing you senseless just like he did yesterday, his tusks feeling incredible against your jaw. His hands were traveling up and down your body, groping your ass and your thighs as he grunted against your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back and passing his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “You were late. And I thought you regretted what happened yesterday. I was freaking out, little human. And then you walked out like nothing happened looking hot enough to eat and smelling like me… Good goddess. Do you know what you do to me?” He pressed his hips against your middle and you moaned at the feel of his huge hard on.

“I- I can feel it,” you stuttered, your voice quivering when his hands squeezed your ass, parting your cheeks and letting one of his fingers rub over your lace covered asshole.

“You have no idea. And now I can’t even fuck you properly. I can’t ruin you the way I want because you were late.” He punctuated each word with a squeeze and a roll of his hips. You panted, so horny you were about to burst and he didn’t even touch you. “Goddess, you smell so fucking good…” He whispered, burying his face on your neck and inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry… I- I spilled coffee on my skirt and had to change and then I forgot a book and have to open the door again and…” Your rambling was interrupted by his lip covering yours again, swallowing your explanation as he grunted, his hands massaging your ass-cheeks once again.

“What do you have after my class?” He asked, his breathing labored, almost desperate.

“A couple more classes,” you told him, mentally checking if you could skip any of them. But you knew you couldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. You were a damn good student… Even if you were fucking your way through one of your subjects.

“Shit.” He passed his hand through his hair again, messing it up and making you want to whimper. “Okay, okay. I have classes after lunch, but I’ll be here around four-ish. Does that work for you?” You nodded fervently. “Okay, I expect you to show me how sorry you really are for being late and depriving me from what I was promised.”

“I can… I can give you my panties now,” you offered, feeling the lace sticking to your pussy lips like a second skin because you were that wet.

“I don’t want them. I want you to be feeling how wet I made you all day. I want you to be uncomfortable and thinking about my cock deep inside your pussy until you are so horny you are desperate to come. Until you know how slutty you really are…” You moaned, his words igniting a fire inside of you that made your brain short-circuit. “Now, compose yourself, we have a very interesting class ahead. I’m sure you are dying to know about the survival strategies of cacti,” he said with a laugh, making you let out a choked giggle. You weren’t expecting him to joke. Shit, why did that make him hotter?

The class was boring, but you didn’t even care about it. You didn’t care about anything but the feel of your wet panties against your pussy and his words resonating inside your brain. He made a point of looking directly at you a couple times, going as far as to ask you something about what he was saying, just to huff in annoyance when you didn’t answer correctly. But he smirked in your direction and that was enough to send you spiraling into a thousand of new horny thoughts.

You left his class as fast as you could, trying very hard to look normal when you passed him, but his knowing smile only made your clit pulsate harder, your core clenching around nothing and making you want to beg him to take pity on you and fuck you right then and there. But you were stronger than that, so you left his class on your way to the next one.

You didn’t take a single note the rest of the day, your brain filled with possibilities and images of his hard dick. The feel of his lips against yours, and the ideas of how would feel against your lower lips… Your brain was running a mile per minute, and you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the rub of the lace against your clit. It was exhilarating and maddening at the same time, and by the time four rolled around, you were on the edge and you had to run to his office in need of release.

You knocked rapidly, and when you opened and saw him there, shirt rolled over his big green forearms and glasses pushed down on his nose you almost came right there. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy it wasn’t fair at all.

“Come on in,” he said as soon as you closed the door behind yourself.

You tried to lock it, but he shook his head… Oh shit, that made you even wetter. The idea that you could get caught. That somebody could just walk in and know how much of a slut you were, that you were fucking your professor for a good grade…

You moaned and he chuckled. “Come here, little human, I almost hear your brain short-circuiting.” You walked to him, your steps measured so you wouldn’t fall. Your knees feel like jelly, and your pussy is so wet you are sure he can hear it from the desk. “So… Did you think about what you are going to do to redeem yourself from not meeting your end of our deal this morning?” You nod. “Go ahead, tell me.”

You’d been thinking about it all day. Your whole brain occupied by thoughts of his cock inside of you, against you, spilling in and over you… But there was one thought that surpassed all others. “I- I want to suck you off, sir.”

He smirked, his tusks framing his plush lips in a way that made your clit tingle. “Is that so? But you have such a tiny human mouth, I don’t know if you’d be able to fit me…” He teased, making you blush. You gave him your panties everyday, and that’s what got you to blush, him teasing you… Incredible.

“I will. It will. It will fit, sir,” you stuttered. This orc made your brain so fuzzy you could barely process words correctly anymore. You could barely talk when he was close, especially now that you were moments away from sucking his dick down your throat.

“Prove it then, little slut.”

You dropped to your knees so fast you moaned when you hit the floor, the spark of pain focusing your brain for a second. But the second you touched his big-as-tree-trunks thighs, your brain disconnected again. Only heat and lust left behind. You pulled down his fly in a slow movement, staring up at him as he looked back at you with an indescribable look.

You took his dick out and gasped again. You already saw it, you had it inside of you, but it was nothing compared with the realization that you were about to fit that inside your mouth. Maybe he was right, and it wouldn’t fit.

His eyes were tender when he looked down at you. “Relax, you don’t have to take all of it, just whatever you are comfortable with. I like you submitting to me, but I don’t want to hurt you in any way. Do you understand?” You nodded, relief running down your body and making you even hornier.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And then you launched.

You pulled out your tongue and started mapping the veins of his huge shaft one after the other. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair with such force you could hear the leather breaking. You smiled against his dick and he grunted, one of his hands fisting your hair and urging you where he wanted you more. You complied, you wanted nothing more but to be a good girl for him, a good slutty human for him.

You took his head into your mouth, your lips so stretched it was almost uncomfortable, but you liked it. You loved the feel of his cock inside your mouth, it was exhilarating in a way you weren’t expecting. You weren’t one to like giving head in general, you preferred to go down on girls than guys, but definitely wasn’t your go to activity, but right there… You fucking loved it.

You rolled your tongue around the tip, teasing the underside where you knew he was especially sensitive. He moaned over you, his fist pulling at your hair and making you moan around him, which made him almost whimper and let out a series of curses that would make a pirate blush.

You kept going at it, you couldn’t get past a few centimeters, he was too wide for you to get him to the back of your throat, but by the glassy look in his eyes you understood it was enough. You were messy, your saliva getting everywhere as you bobbed your head up and down.

He was looking down at you reverently, and you couldn’t hold back a few more moans, who made him thrust up accidentally. You pulled back coughing, eyes teary and a few tears rolling down. He groaned at the sigh, and you felt your clit pulsating with your heartbeat. You were so close to coming, you wanted nothing more but to touch yourself. You threw your body to him again, but he stopped you with the hand tangled in your curls.

“I want to fuck your pretty face, would you let me, little slut? Would you let me use you like my personal fuck toy?” You whimpered, nodding against his thigh as he pulled your head back by the hair. “Such a good girl for me, already so needy and desperate. Look at you… You look so dirty like that. Remind me to take a pic so I can enjoy you later,” his words made you emit a guttural moan.

The idea of him taking pics of you like that, make up running and lips swollen… it made you feel hot. It made you feel so horny you could feel your juices dripping down to the floor under you, your panties so wet they couldn’t hold your gushing pussy anymore.

“You like that? You like me having pictures of how pretty you look all fucked up? Why do I even ask, of course you do, you are such a little slut for me. Now open up.” You obeyed and he directed his dick back against your welcoming mouth. “Tap my leg three times if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded again. “Words. How many times?”

“Three. I tap three times if it’s too much,” you repeat, breathless already.

“Good girl.”

And then he started a brutal pace. He used his hold on your hair to direct your movements, moving your head forward until you couldn’t take it further and then retreating. Repeating that process until something inside of you gave out and you felt him slip inside your throat. It was almost too much, you couldn’t breathe, but your eyes rolled back into your head at the sight of him in pleasure.

He pulled back to let you breathe, looking down at you with reverence. “You look so fucked out I want to ruin you. Would you let me ruin you, little human?” You nodded, unable to form words. “Such a good girl for me.” He pulled your head forward and started to fuck your mouth in earnest.

Your brain was fuzzy, your pussy so wet you could feel it dripping down, and your clit asking for attention. The weight of his cock against your tongue, his hand on your hair and his curses over you were driving you insane.

“Touch yourself for me, little human. Come around your tiny fingers. Show me how much you like sucking my orc cock,” his permission was enough, your hand traveling down your body and rubbing frantically against your clit, over the lace.

His pace became erratic, and your fingers rubbed so hard you were almost afraid to set your clit on fire. But it was so good, the combination of sensations so intense you were about to come.

“I’m about to come. Do you want it? Do you want to swallow my come or do you want it in your face, little slut?” You sucked harder, pushing your head further down, swallowing around him to indicate you wanted it. You wanted to swallow him whole.

That was all it took. He growled over you and pushed his dick as far as he could before you felt the first shot of his come in the back of your throat. He pulled back a little to avoid chocking you, the final spurs of his release filling your mouth to the brim, some of it dripping down your chin.

The second he opened his eyes and looked down at you, his dick still in your mouth, you were done. You flicked your clit one last time before you melted, pulling back and spilling the rest of his come over your boobs as you cried out your own release.

Your vision whited out, your ears ringing as you felt your body moving as he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands caressing your back as he whispered sweet nothings that your brain couldn’t process.

He took some tissues from the box on his desk and carefully cleaned your messy face. “You didn’t take the pic,” you told him.

“We didn’t talk about it beforehand. I wouldn’t risk stepping over your possible boundaries like that.” Your heart skipped a beat. “But don’t worry, we’ll have more opportunities if that’s something you’d enjoy…”

“We will?” You asked, a bit confused but a spark of hope blooming inside your chest.

“I’m not letting go of your sweet, sweet slutty pussy anytime soon,” he told you, kissing your forehead as his hand traveled down until it met your dripping panties. “I would like this panties now, thank you,” he whispered against your ear, you could sense his smirk on his tone, making you laugh so hard you snorted.

Reminder that you can find all my other stories over @monstersflashlight

[beefcakekinard]

"Grab a seat."

Bobby claps Buck's shoulder as he passes on his way into the kitchen. Well - sure, it's got a fridge and a stove, but Bobby's definition of kitchen vs kitchenette leans a little spoiled these days. They can't get out of this rental fast enough.

He comes back with two cups of coffee and sits opposite Buck at the table. He waits as Buck adds a heaping teaspoon of sugar to his mug, glowering at the surface of it while he stirs. He waits as Buck sighs with his whole body and flops back against his chair. Bobby blows the steam from his coffee, takes a scalding sip, and waits. Years of experience have taught him that when Buck's really chewing on something, the easiest way to get it out of him is to outlast his patience.

"I miss Tommy."

It helps that Buck and patience are barely acquaintances.

Buck's continuing the thought before Bobby can even open his mouth. "I can't get him out of my head, Bobby. It's, it's like he's haunting me! Everything I do reminds me of him, even if it has nothing to do with him, and I feel like I'm going crazy!"

Bobby waits. Buck pouts. When it's clear he doesn't have anything more to add, Bobby clasps his hands and leans forward.

"Why do you miss him?"

Buck rears back, looking confused. Bobby spreads his hands.

"You think about him when he's not around. What is it you're thinking about?" he asks. Buck considers the question and flushes. Bobby quickly adds, "Keeping it PG."

Buck scratches his nose, keeping his eyes averted. He takes a deep breath.

"I think... I think about how excited I always was to see him," Buck says to the tabletop. Bobby takes another sip of coffee.

"I think about - how I never had to pretend. Like he saw me, just me, and that was enough. I like, I liked, the way he made me feel about myself." Buck curls in on himself and picks at a thread on his jeans. "I, I miss who I was when he was around."

"Just because Tommy's not around anymore doesn't mean you can't be yourself," Bobby says. Buck takes the bait; he whips his head up to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"No, you, you don't understand, Bobby -" Buck leans towards him, insistent. "I miss how he cares so much about everyone even though he tries to look stoic and casual. I miss how he ugly-laughs at his own stupid jokes. I miss the way he talks to kids like they're adults and I miss how gentle he is with anything smaller than him. I miss how he fills his own dishwasher wrong and I have to fix it every time. I miss him more now than the day he broke up with me, what's wrong with me?"

The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the wall clock and the whooshing in-out of Buck's heavy breathing. Bobby waits until he calms down a bit, until he sits back in his chair again and awaits Bobby's input, looking like he's in anguish over it.

"You know he's not perfect." Bobby feels like he's lobbing a live grenade.

Buck scoffs. "Jesus, Bobby, if anyone knows that right now it's me. But I don't want perfect, I just want Tommy."

The clock ticks. Bobby drinks some more coffee. He waits.

Realization overtakes Buck's face between one blink and the next. "Oh," he says. Bobby smiles, enjoys his coffee, and waits some more.

"Oh!"

There it is.

Buck jumps up, springing to his feet like a cartoon character. "I, I have to go, I gotta - I have to go," he says, all in a rush. "Thanks, Bobby!" he calls over his shoulder before running out the front door, slamming it behind himself. The door opens a crack, just long enough for Buck to call, "Bye Bobby!" into the apartment before he's slamming it closed again. He sounds like a herd of galloping horses running down the hall.

Bobby smiles to himself. He checks the clock - Athena will be home soon, and he feels like whipping up one of her favourites for dinner. He takes the mugs - one empty, one full - into the kitchen and leaves them in the sink while he gets started.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Holy hell Author. Holy hell.

Like, after I reread the Adopted son 48+ times, I still haven't processed even though I've processed fully what happened....

Like looking you need to distract myself but I can't leave your page. So I ask of you to throw us a bone of anything happier.... please

Like, IDK Royal Consort or something I don't know

That was like the first thing I could see after I like processed the episode of adopted son I just watched with my eyes that was like happy and not about food cuz I don't think I could stomach it without wanting to like viciously Chomp on a salad imagining it being Richard Grayson destroyed.

And I'm feeling bold but I'm also a coward I'm also a coward so I will not make this anonymous out of pure Hope that you who will throw a bone of any anything at us

And not just drink our tears while cackling madly cuz I feel like you do that like an ancient duchess or something IDK

Danny is floating in incredible darkness, disrupted by small shining stardust, where nothing but peace can reach him. It's been a long time since he felt so at ease that he allowed himself to flout higher and higher as if flying away into an endless cosmos.

He is about to pass a point where he knows that if he goes beyond it, there will be no return. He will know nothing but the tremendous abyss.

Accepting the joy it brings him, Danny floats towards the gateway, chest first, arms spread, and a blissful smile stretching across his face. Then, a burning sensation begins on his back, like someone had thrown a hook onto it. He has a second to scream before he's yanked away from the stardust and the gleaming gateway, hand stretched out desperately towards it as he falls, falls, falls-!

Danny slams into his body like a flight train, going off the rails and making him bounce slightly on the bed he was lying on. While trying to catch his breath, a roar of whispers starts up around him, resonating inside his skull and banging his brain like a gong.

He blinks and opens his eyes, trying to get his ears to stop ringing, but he has to shut them down due to the bright light that burns his pupils. He tries lifting his hand to rub at his eyes to soothe them but finds his limbs uncooperating.

Mentally sending the command to move doesn't seem to be received, as all he can do is make his fingers twitch slightly. His legs also won't move, not even to flex his toes. Panicked, Danny rips open his eyes again, wanting desperately to move his head but finding his neck is only able to rock in place but not actually turn.

Then, he notices a breathing mask is attached to his face. He seems to be underneath four bright lights similar to the ones he's seen on TV for medical shows. His clothes had been switched out from the fancy tux that the Waynes got him to what feels like paper-thin cloth, and he swears that there is a cap or something similar on his head.

Danny's heart starts hammering in his chest as his panic increases. He doesn't know where he is, what happened, or why he seemed to have woken in what seemed like a hospital setting. Distantly, he hears a loud double beat, rising in volume and increasing in tempo.

He can't tell where they are coming from as he struggles with all his might to get his body to move. A face appears on his right, causing Danny to flinch from the sudden appearance and the closeness. It took a moment for his eyes to focus as the person had left only breath space between their noses.

Phantom.

A bright eye, grinning Phantom with glowing cracks alongside the left of his neck. The cracks- they don't appear like scars, but honest to Ancients, they remember broken marks on porcelain dolls- went up to his left ear, curling around his jaw, and disappeared into the cloth near his left shoulder.

"What happened to you?" he means to ask, but the mask and his weakened state have the words come out more like "Wa heped to yu?"

Phantom smiles anyway, clearly not understanding what he's saying but able to make a guest, "Good morning, sleeping beauty. I've been waiting a whole week for you."

"a wek?"

"That's right, it's been a week. Frostbite was able to save you through a hazardous surgery involving half of my core and the blood of a human virgin." Phantom brushes some loose bangs out of Danny's face, somehow making his face soften even if his eyes still have that hard, tired glint. It was one of the big differences he had noticed at the gala.

Phantom had the eyes of someone who had seen the end of the world and had hearted his heart to survive it. He blinked slowly, trying to understand the information his future ghost self was saying, but his vision wavered as a new wave of fatigue overcame him.

Phantom sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Rest, my love. When you wake the next time, things should be much clearer."

Danny fights against his slumber as much as he can but is only able to hear a voice whisper, "How is the Consort?"

"He's doing better, thank you, Ambassador Drake."

Ambassador?

The next time Danny wakes up, he's no longer in the healing chambers. Instead, he finds himself underneath the silk comforter of his King Chambers inside of his castle that he purchased from the WebSpinners in the Ghost Zone. He blinks his eyes slowly, trying to push away the fog clinging to his mind, as he carefully leaves himself into a sitting position.

He's wearing his royal pajamas, which feel like a soft, warm cloud is touching his skin. He sits in the sensation while taking one slow, deep breath. The King Chambers used to be Pariah Dark's old bedroom in his haunt, covered wall to wall with mounted body parts of his enemies.

It took Danny two whole years before he could make himself go in and clear everything out. He then had Poindexter hire a team of interior designers who brought to life Danny's human perspective of what he thought a castle should look like.

Granted, Danny's idea of a castle was a little clouded by all the movies he had seen with Kings and Queens, and it took some trial and error before the team figured out he considered French Chateaus as his ideal mental castle image. Now they informed that the Haunt would react to his will, and after spending hours and hours meditating to create a connection with his inherited haunt, Danny had shifted its shape from a gothic black stone medieval castle to a bright white break chateau.

He had even turned the environment from a ranging dark storm into an eternal winter wonderland. He glances at the two large windows of his room, taking in the gentle folds of white blankets across the ground as soft snow continues to fall.

His breath hitches at the beautiful sight, suddenly overcome with love for his gentle winter morning. Even though he had shifted the grounds into more welcoming walk gardens with undisrupted snow and pine trees, nothing was as beautiful as his Haunt's ice statues of his family and other beloved memories that decorated the pathways of his gardens.

Danny takes a few minutes to admire

A fire cracks within the room's fireplace, pulling him from his thoughts. He briefly considers it, memorizing the soft purple of its flames when the door is violently flung open. Standing in the doorway is a hurried-looking Poindexter whose arms are filled with various parchment, scrolls, and stacks of papers.

"Danno! You're awake!" He greets, rushing towards him with various items falling out of his arms. "Thank the Ancients. Can you please review these purchase orders?"

"What? No!" Danny groans, leaning away from the desperate-looking nerd who practically crawls across the bed while shoving scrolls at him. "I've been unconscious for a week! Why would your first instinct be to make me sign purchase orders? "

"I know, but ever since you acknowledged yourself as the Consort, that made your human side head of Hunt operation and management. You only gave me Manager rights as the King, but the spouse authority, which in this case is the Consort, goes over my clearance level, and I need to get these paid before the ghosts lose their patience and come ransack the castle!" Pointdexter snapped. "Why did you go around telling people you married yourself!? I thought wearing the Consort symbol was a weird metaphor for self-love and a declaration of staying unmarried, not that you actually married yourself! This is weird!"

Danny blinks, caught off guard by the usually calm ghost sneering in his face. "How....did you hear about all of this?"

Pointdexter sighs, falling back and, thankfully, out of Danny's personal bubble. "Everyone's heard about it since King Phantom popped up with you in his arms, which is a problem because only a select few from your early years knew you're a halfa - a secret we had spent years protecting, which is now much harder to do. Rumors are spreading that you even brought back a concubine! A concubine!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be! Do you know how many ghost territories have attempted to send a concubine as a gift and an effort to control the King's Court?! Nine hundred and fifty-three! I had to turn away each one with the flimsy excuse that the King wasn't present to turn them away himself."

"We have a Court?"

"We do now! Thanks to the existence of Consort Daniel Fenton!" Poindexter rubs the space between his eyes after taking off his glasses. "The worst part is that King Phantom returned to the human world to calm things down from his fit and left that human in the castle. The jerk has been snooping around and then had the audacity of acting like he's some idiot who isn't snooping. As if I haven't been the head of the Hunt security for four years!"

Danny raises a hand, feeling like that was too much information to process. Seeing the ghost go silent and wait as he tries to think is gratifying. Eventually, he hears himself ask, "What human?"

"Timothy Drake. He was the reason you and the King survived a core transfer."

"How?"

"He donated fractions of his soul in self-sacrifice to turn into pure ectoplasm that was used to piece together King Phantom from falling apart." Pointdexter sighs. "The only problem was the man did it in a pathetic attempt to keep the King from "raging war" against the humans, and now he can't leave the Hunt as a side effect of the ritual. The humans think we purposely stole him, and now everyone is scared that King Phantom has a taste for human flesh., and not in the cannibal way! And I have Purchase orders that are weeks overdue!"

There was a loud sound of horns from the outside before a man shouted, "Announcing the arrival of Sir John the Pure, a tribute to King Phantom to be used as a concubine. A gift from the Cosmos tribe."

Pointdexer throws his arms into the air, leaping off the bed and rushing out of the room. It's always hard to remember ghosts could not go through walls like the mortal world, but that at least means the large carriage, followed by marching men in knight suits, was forced to go slowly so as not to hit all his ice statues.

That did not mean the weird marching band was made entirely of fanfare; trumpets stopped blaring their song as they grew closer to the front door.

Danny could see them from his window, and he also saw the moment Drake faded through the second-floor wall, looking shocked- likely unaware he was the ghost in the ghost zone- before he face-planted on the ground below. A beautiful man leaps out of the carriage, rushing towards him, and were it not for his blue skin and stardust in his hair, Danny would have thought him human.

Pointdexer appears at the door, shouting something while the horns continue to play their stupid song.

Danny opens and closes his mouth before he grabs a pillow and screams into it.

This is the worst way to wake up.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Anger - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E (is there anything else with him?????) Truly this is the least crazy thing I've written in days. Unprotected p in v. Word Count: 1155 a/n: Sometimes I spend all afternoon trying to write Joel and get nothing and other times I write 1000 words in less than 30 minutes. There is no in-between. Written for TLOU Sundays!

"You've really gotta do something about him," Ellie tells you from where she's sitting at the kitchen table.

You're barely through the door, coat still covered in a layer of snow from outside. "Well hello to you, too, Ellie," you respond, pulling off your boots before you track any more water into the house. It's strange, how something like keeping the floors dry didn't matter for twenty years and now suddenly again it does. "You're the fourth person to say that to me today though, so I assume you also are talking about Joel?"

She's flipping through the pages of a comic, barely paying you any attention. "Yes, Joel," she emphasizes, not that you need any further confirmation. Maria had cornered you at the saloon, the other half of your patrol had been on your case, and you had a run-in with Jackson's resident grandma first thing in the morning, who gave you an earful about how you needed to learn how to satisfy your man so he would stop torturing the entire town with his bad mood.

You sigh, shucking your coat and flexing your toes in your thick socks as you make your way into the kitchen. "Any idea what's wrong with him? He seemed fine this morning."

Ellie shrugs, still engrossed in the pages in front of her. "I don't know, Dina just told me he was being a real fucking asshole. You know how he gets."

That you do. You're well aware of the way Joel Miller can make or break an entire day based on his mood, especially since you've been at his side to witness it longer than anyone else.

Before you can contemplate further, the man in question storms through the door, a grumble on his lips before it's even closed behind him. Ellie meets your gaze, glancing over at him before turning back to you and then quickly rising. "I've gotta get going," she says quickly, sneaking past Joel to grab her jacket.

She's out the door before he can even say a word.

"Where the fuck is she going?" he questions, ignoring the way his boots squeak on the floorboards as he makes his way to the couch, collapsing into it. A part of you wants to scold him for the wet spots now littered all over the floor, but based on the furrow in his brow, there's no use, and you simply follow him instead, swinging a leg over his thigh to climb into his lap and settle there.

Only he has the audacity to grumble. Again.

"Joel," you say sternly, "don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he fires back, and now you know exactly what everyone had been warning you about. "I didn't do anything."

"What's up with you today?" It's a simple question, an inquiry that he should have no problem answering, but he doesn't, so you continue with a follow-up request, "Just tell me why I had four separate people tell me that I needed to figure out who you're so angry today."

"I'm not angry."

You frown. "Bullshit, Miller. Tell me what the fuck is wrong."

His answer is to seal his lips to yours, his rough grip dragging your hips against his so you can feel the hard press of him between your thighs. This felt familiar, especially since he'd been in an equally shit mood the day you first met, something you'd promptly fucked out of him later that night. And usually, that did the trick, but there was always something else lingering beneath the surface.

Not that you have time to contemplate what it might be because he pushes any thought of his mental well-being from your head when he rips your shirt from your body and latches onto one of your breasts. Likewise, any train of thought is gone just as quickly as the remainder of your clothing.

It's a good thing Ellie left quickly, because within minutes he has you spread out on the couch beneath him, one of your legs hitched around his hip as he pounds into you. There's little space left between you, the moment feeling intimate even with the intensity of the way he's pressing you down, grunting with each thrust until he has you clenching around him.

His fingers are on your clit before you come down from your climax, already drawing you higher a second time. "Joel, fuck, I can't," you whine, gripping at his hand.

"You can," he emphasizes, "you're gonna take every fucking inch of me."

And then you can see it. The rage behind his gaze, the emotion that has his eyes glassed over. The anger he has to unleash somehow. It scared you when you first met him, the first time he had you like this back in Boston, pressed up against the door, the first time you watched his fist collide with a FEDRA officer who tried to touch you, and the first time you saw him have to kill someone who definitely wasn't infected.

But now, you know better. You know that he won't hurt you, but he still needs a way to release the pent-up emotion that boils beneath the surface. You don't know what happened to get him here today, but you do know how to fix it.

Joel groans when you shift to wrap your legs fully around his waist, pulling him down so the soft expanse of his stomach presses against your own, increasing the pressure of your walls wrapped around him. It's all he can do to rut into you, your back slowly snaking up the arm of the couch as he fucks you. The angle changes the higher you move, guiding his lips to yours so he can catch the scream that rips from your throat when you clench around him a second time.

He follows you into the abyss, pulling out seconds before he spills against your center, jerking himself off until the last drops drip down onto the fabric.

When he regains his breath he stands, cock softening as he moves to grab a cloth to wipe his spend from your core. And then he's pressing you into the couch again, settled in the safety of your thighs as his head rests on your chest.

"Do you wanna know what Mrs. Davis told me today?" you ask softly, fingers curling through his hair.

Joel rests his chin on your breast as he looks at you, eyes softer now, more playful. "Fuck, what did she say?"

You smile. "She saw me at the store and pulled me into the corner to tell me that I needed to get you home and ride your cock because she was sick of your shit."

His laugh is rough, but he says nothing else as he settles back against you.

"Was she right?" you ask, your own laughter threatening to bubble up.

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't deny it either.

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

"You're welcome." Remus smiled then nodded, "Sounds good! If you ever feel differently let me know. Or if you want anything else done to your body. I'll happily pay for any of the surgeries. Mhm... Can't agree with you more. Flesh is gross sometimes. Mhm, that's true, but it could make you feel somewhat better. That's true!" He kissed emiles shoulder, "And I think it's adorable, no matter what you do." He nods, then he works down to emiles hips and his stomach. "Yeah... Mhm... You have the cutest stomach, do you know that? You're not too skinny, but not too big either. You've got a little bit of chub to make it adorable." He kissed his stomach.

"There are chances that he doesn't care. But I won't count on it, is all I'm saying. He may want Roman off the hook now that he's got Roman 2.0, I guess you could say." The man leaned back in his chair as Virgil watched the video. "Nope. They keep mentioning him, and yet...they're not doing a single thing to save him. It's like theyre talking about a ghost, or someone that's already dead. Hm, personally Roman is more my type, I like Romans big shoulders. But I see what you two see in this ex. Hm... That's a possibility... Especially since I'll be sending the dogs to this address, so it's clear that you know where they are. So you could, theoretically, kill the ex very easily. He may take that as a real possible threat..."

The man snorted, "Aw, I would've liked to have seen Roman in a ring gag, shoot. But I would've loved to have seen Romans face as he realized you were serious and he had to wear it." He chuckled, "I bet it was priceless. Oh?" The man leaned over to see the photo, only to chuckle even more at seeing it. "Oh, yeah, that's perfect. It's like he's made for those sort of outfits! He's adorable! Can I show that to the boys? I bet they'll fight over each other to get their hands on the photo."

"I bet he would. Ah, yeah, if you don't condition him enough he would cry the first time you do it. Judging by how loudly the mutt protested when they arrived, you may have him on your ass too. Mhm, smart. Gotta condition his mind to associate you with love and pleasure. Give him a sort of... Stockholm syndrome sort of thing. He's gonna look very cute with a big tummy, I bet. Oh, before you get to that point, would you want me to do a full checkup on him? Just to make sure he's healthy? You don't want him to be sick when he's pregnant, after all."

"Well, for Roman it won't be much harm to him. I'll do it the most humane way for him. As for the mutt..." The man chuckled darkly, "Who really cares about him, really? Let's just say... It's going to be so extreme that there won't be a way to reverse the process. He'll be a permanent doll for the rest of his life. But, again, who really cares? As for Roman... I'll do it how some therapists do it, just hypnotizing him. It may take some time, but he won't know the difference by the end of it. Also, if you want, later down the line, I could make Roman a hybrid. That way if he ever does escape..." He chuckled, "Everyone will just treat him as property, as your official property. Won't that be fantastic?"

Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.

{@moralpuppylover2}

Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.

So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-

He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.

"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.

@moralpuppylover2

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine injured reader with the 141!

Camera Guy! au, female reader

Masterlist

Previous -

Imagine Reader! For whatever reason needs to get to the emergency department and they're overseas on deployment.

Reader! being completely calm, insisting they're fine. Soap was also calm, driving the rest of the squad in a large sedan. Gaz and Price are somewhat nervous, they both keep trying to look at you in the front mirror. (you're sitting in the passenger seat.) Ghost is silent, tapping his foot.

Reader! putting on music, saying they want to calm down. (It's really for Gaz and Price.)

‘You alright sweetheart?’ Kyle asks, his voice low and soothing.

‘Yeah I'm alright! Kinda hungry though, can we stop at McDonald's?’ Reader! blinks through the front mirror with hopeful eyes.

Ghost quickly shuts down her idea.

‘After you get to the emergency room I'll drive back to find you some nuggets but not a moment before.’

Reader! can almost hear the frown in his voice.

Imagine Reader! ends up having a fractured bone and not even realising it.

‘It just hurts a little when I touch it. It isn't particularly painful if I ignore it.’ She pouts, not liking being around so many people.

‘Can I go home now sir?’ Reader! gives the nurse her best puppy eyes while the rest of the task force glares at him.

However the nurse ignores them all and just smiles down at her and says,

‘Sorry lovie you'll need to get an X ray and then see a doctor. For now, would you like some Panadol?’

Reader! shakes her head, not wanting to have it in her system just in case.

‘We coulda done this at the base if we were at home.’ Ghost grumbles, his foot tapping rhythmically. It was the only tell that displayed his nervousness.

‘I’m fine LT!’ Reader! sighs. She throws a used tissue at him that he catches. Ghost looks at it and then makes a grimace and underarms it to Kyle who catches it gracefully and throws it into the bin.

‘So you guys are in the military?’ The nurse makes small talk, not intimidated by the men.

‘Something like that!’ Reader! smiles, knowing that they can't divulge sensitive information.

The nurse nods slowly,

‘Have you guys?...’

‘She has a higher body count than you think.’ Soap chirps up mischievously.

‘Johnny!’ Reader! protests, throwing her empty paper cup at him.

‘He doesn't mean sex.’ She quickly gives an explanation. (The nurse is now more concerned that she said this.)

‘Okay!’ He drags out. ‘Well, we’ll get you into a wheelchair and then you can get X-rayed!’ he rushes through the rest of his sentence and then walks away briskly.

‘I think he's nice!’ Reader! is completely oblivious to the fact that he was interested in her but is now terrified.

‘I think he likes you Johnny!’ Reader! grins, to everyone's confusion.

‘Sure love, do you want nuggets and fries or a burger?’ Ghost quickly changes the conversation.

‘Hmm can I have my usual?’ She fiddles with the hem of her clothing.

‘Aite. Anyone else?’ He grunts.

‘I’ll come with ye. Want some fresh fries.’ Soap stands, patting your shoulder.

Reader! grins and asks, ‘Do you want me to get his number for you?’ in a completely genuine tone.

‘No! No.. that's okay!.’ Johnny blurts out, eyes wide. The rest of the guys are stifling giggles.

‘Aw okay, he’ll be disappointed though I'm sure.’ Reader! mumbles.

Reader! ends up getting out in a small cast and is told to not lift anything heavy and rest for two weeks. Price and Ghost end up taking care of her while Soap and Kyle end up cooking. When everyone is flown back home, the team makes sure you don't have to do more than your usual work load. (You still have to do the bare minimum. You're an independent girl!)

-----

A/N: Cooked this bas boy up while I was waiting on the Emergency Department 😂✋

[svetamillss]

NSFW alphabet with them🫦

Featuring: Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: By popular demand, I wrote an alphabet with them. I hope you like it!

🫦🫦🫦

Park Gyeong Seok

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

A man immediately helps you clean up all the mess, helps you get to the bathroom, where you may take a joint shower. After all, you either talk for a long time or fall asleep in each other's arms.

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

He loves your tits. He likes to suck your nipples, leave his marks on your tits, spank them, and basically he likes how your breasts fit perfectlyin his palms.

In himself, he loves his pumped up body: hands, abs. Because he sees you drooling when you see him without a T-shirt.

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

He cums most often in you (you want more children, except Na Yeon), he also likes to cum on your tits or in your mouth (in your mouth with your consent).

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

He has long dreamed of painting with his paints on your naked body, and then have sex with you.

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

He is twenty years older than you, he was married once, and he also has a daughter, so he was one hundred percent experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary: this is an old classic for him. Cowgirl: he likes to see your tits jump to the rhythm of his pushes into your pussy.

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

He's always serious during sex, so don't expect jokes from him (he also doesn't know how to joke too well).

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

He is not used to watching the hair in the groin area, but he began to do it for you, although sometimes rarely, he just doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

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

He is quite romantic, even at such moments. The man tries to shower you with all possible compliments.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off, but not very often. This happens when you can't have sex for quite a long time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You are in his clothes, outfits where your breasts are clearly visible when you call him "daddy"

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers everything classic: a bedroom or a living room. Sometimes you can have sex in the shower.

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

Dirty talk, flirting, your requests that you really want to have sex.

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

Will never hurt you.

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

A man loves it when you give him a great blowjob and he also doesn't disdain to give you cunnilingus.

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

Gyeong can start slowly and finish quickly and roughly.

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

He doesn't like quick sex, he doesn't have time to enjoy you, so you don't do that.

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

Gyeong is also not a fan of different experiments, he likes everything in the classics.

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

He will definitely be able to withstand 4-5 rounds.

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

No toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes a man can tease you, he likes to see how you are embarrassed by his vulgy words.

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

Not to say that he’s too loud. Gyeong is something between loud and quiet, in addition to moaning, he can also growl and swear.

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

Since he is an artist, you make small dates at your home related to his work. You become his model and he draws a lot of candid pictures with your image, which only you two will see.

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

8 inches.

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

Not to say that the yearning is very high, rather above average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you don't talk about something, he falls asleep right away, making sure you're okay.

Nam Gyu

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

You either talk a little or fall asleep right away, because sex with him is quite exhausting.

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

He loves your hips, because Gyu always kisses and bites them, he can also spank them. He also likes your tits, he likes to suck them like a little kid, he also loves it when you jerk him off with your tits.

He rather likes a dick in himself, because he thinks it's perfect for you.

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

It quickly enters the taste, so it cums wherever it wants: in your pussy, on your face, on your stomach, on your tits, in your mouth. Nam likes to watch you look with his sperm.

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

He wants to have threesome sex, where his best friend Thanos will be present, but he knows that you will be against it, but maybe someday he will offer.

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

He had several girlfriends before you, so he is quite experienced, unlike you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary: the guy loves to look at your face, and also to see how his dick is deep enough in you.

Cowgirl: he loves your tits and the way they jump.

Doggy style: Nam likes to slap your ass during sex and feel the main one.

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

He's not very serious at such moments, he likes to joke or even talk.

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

He shaves and not only because of you, Gyu just doesn't like it when he has a lot of hair on his body.

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

You were surprised when you saw that your boyfriend is romantic during sex, he likes to tell you various compliments and kiss you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nam jerks off almost every day, he relieves his stress after a hard day, but then he will definitely take care of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The way you call him "daddy" when you're in the form of a sexy kitty, his clothes on you, light suffocation and slight humiliation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn't care where to have sex, he can fuck you in the bedroom, in the shower, in his car, in the cubicle of the public toilet.

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

Dirty talk, the way you meow for him, kisses on his neck, if you undress in front of him.

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

He will never hurt you or do what you don't like.

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

He likes both cunnilingus and how you give him a blowjob.

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

He is usually fast and rude, but if you ask him, he can be slower.

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

He has nothing against quick sex, you do it when you need to quickly relieve stress, but not very often.

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

He's a risky guy and ready for various experiments, but the main thing is that you agree.

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

He can easily withstand 5 rounds.

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

He can use various toys such as cat ears, collar, cat tail, whips and various vibrators, but only with your consent.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Gyu can't do without flirting, so you're used to his vulgy statements in your direction.

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

He's quite loud, it's high for him to know when the neighbors hear you fucking.

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

In the evening you got into a traffic jam that went on for quite a long time, he was very bored and the guy decided to have fun. And you were wearing a light summer dress. The guy began to caress your pussy with his fingers, through the fabric of your panties, and when he saw that you wanted more, he began to fuck you with his fingers.

But Gyu became cramped in his pants and he came up with another plan.

- Kitten, are you riding your daddy while he's driving? - he said in a purring voice, you were very excited.

He had tinted windows, so no one will see you. He slightly moved the seat away so that you could sit comfortably after you took off your panties and pulled down the underwear with Gyu (he helped you with this). You sat down with a loud moan on his dick, starting to move quickly. Nam slapped you on the ass with one hand, and held the steering wheel with the other.

- Fuck, I love evening traffic jams so much. - he says, before moaning loudly again.

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

7 inches.

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

High, even very high!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Gyu falls asleep almost immediately, hugging you at the same time.

🫦🫦🫦

[litnerdwrites]

Yes to all of this. 100% Yes!

And to add on, I think Feyre ended up getting exactly what she wanted.

She got upset about the whole 'no such thing as a high lady' thing, in a conversation she started by stating how the title of High Lady made her uncomfortable. Between this and the way she chants in her head, while opening gifts, praying that they aren't crowns, imply that the idea of having equal authority and political power upset her. However, what Feyre did want, was to paint, help rebuild after the devastation of Amarantha's reign, and not be stuck indoors all the time.

There were a couple problems with each of her desires though. Her trauma reaction prevented her from doing things she enjoyed, due to both survivors guilt and a associating red with blood. Going out was dangerous, due to her unstable powers, the instability of the court, and the risk of Hybern/others coming after her (remember that she's untrained in both magic, and fighting, still trying to become properly accustomed to her fae body and new lifestyle, and panics at the sight of anything resembling blood, which probably would include actual blood). All of these are valid concerns, but Feyre's desires a valid too. It was up to her and Tamlin to communicate, grow their relationship, and try to find solutions, alternatives, and otherwise attempt to move forward together, while supporting each other, setting healthy boundaries, and making their expectations clear. If it couldn't work out, or they weren't meshing, then they should've broken up amicably.

But this post isn't about their communication issues.

Stepping back, I think what Feyre wants is power without the responsibility or drawbacks.

She wants to have her say in politics, or matters regarding the court, when she feels like it, but refuses to acknowledge the political ramifications of marrying The High Lord of Spring, being the woman who broke Amarantha's Curse, and having the powers of all seven HLs after being resurrected by them. She wants to be Tamlin's equal in every way, but when it comes to the idea of equal political status, she expresses discomfort. She wants power equal to his, without the title. Yet, she refuses to acknowledge or even deal with or learn more about the political ramifications of her circumstances.

Feyre laments her circumstances, but doesn't make an effort to educate herself about them. She never tries to learn how to read or ask about the laws of the Spring Court. She's upset when people cite that there are rules and traditions she and they need to follow, but makes no effort to learn them in any capacity, so she might understand her situation, and take action accordingly. Instead, she shows open disdain for those rules and traditions, without properly trying to communicate her problem, leaving her looking like a toddler.

Now, Velaris is the opposite of this.

There's no danger because no one knows it exists.

There's no distance between her and the people because they've spent centuries living next door to their ruler and his inner court, and can see him regularly when he hosts those meet & greets where his people raise their issues to him.

They aren't bombarding her with their gratitude because, a) It was the spring Court that was cursed, and b) The only issues Velaris saw, from what we can tell, was no trade, meaning no spices. It's clear that the area warded was large enough to not only encompass the city, but enough farmland to feed the entire population for fifty years, otherwise having very little over all impact on their quality of life.

Velaris has been protected on the blood of Illyria and the Hewn City, facing little to no significant changes in their lifestyles as a result. Both during war, and under Amarantha.

The political climate of the Velaris is not only stable, but has no impact on other courts, nor does it draw the eye of foreign nations because, again, nobody knows it exists. Feyre can do what she wants, because there's little consequence in doing so, while in Velaris. If Feyre fucks up political matters, it isn't going to have many ramifications, because the citizens will just laugh it off and carry on with their day.

If she uses her powers, before the other HLs learn about them, she doesn't have to worry about being spied on, anyone learning about them, because it doesn't matter in Velaris. If she wants to spend time painting at a studio in town, or volunteering, there's no risk of her life being in danger, because nobody knows this city exists. If anyone is looking for her, they will probably check either The Hewn City, Illyria, or any other small towns/villiages/cities that may exist because nobody suspects that there's a secret other city.

Meanwhile, none of those factors can be applied to the Spring Court, because while there, all eyes are on her and there would be ramifications to her actions.

It makes sense Feyre becomes High Lady in Velaris, because it means nothing. It requires nothing from her. There's little weight on her shoulders, and being uneducated isn't an issue because there's nobody around to critique her or how much/little she works. To the citizens, she's more like a neighbour, and we have no evidence that any of them leave Velaris at all, so we can assume they haven't personally seen the other two thirds of their court. With that in mind, what have they got to compare her or Rhys to, given the luxury they live in.

Of course she doesn't do High Lady duties. She doesn't have any, and if she did, they wouldn't matter. It's not like they look after anywhere other than Velaris anyway.

In regards to Nesta, I agree that she isn't able to rule either, but she has the most potential. It's important to understand that when we're told that Nesta was 'raised to marry a prince', it doesn't mean she's versed in politics. At least not more than is necessary for social gatherings. Aside from birthing heirs, and possibly hosting events, a Princess or Queen would be responsible for managing the household, meaning Nesta was likely raised to do just that. When they got their wealth back, it was likely her running and managing the household, especially while her father was away.

Ultimately, Nesta's education didn't give her the skills a politition would need, she has the most potential to learn, and even without that, I still think she'd do a better job than Feyre. At the very least, she can read, and has the initiative to go learn how to do it, if she doesn't know.

doesn’t surprise me feyre doesn’t do her high lady duties and she only brings it up for her own interests bc remember how much she brought up tamlin not making her a high lady?

tamlin would have made her his lady, same duties now she is doing now except her title has “high” word in it

“tamlin never saw me as his equal” bc your not! you don’t even know the basics of fae world!

tamlin not seeing feyre his equal for position of ruling does not mean he didn’t love or value her

it’s most likely tamlin thought they had all the time in the world now and he would teach her as they’d go

and is like what’s wrong with that?? some self reflection would go a long way feyre

she isn’t educated

she knows nothing about the faes or lands

has no training in politics

has no idea how to behave at court

she knows nothing

feyre had no reason to believe she is worthy of being tamlin’s or anyone’s equal in a position of leadership over a court

all she did was free tamlin, who then killed amarantha

if she believes it should be bc of love like honey, that’s not how it works. again it shows she has no knowledge of the land, of fae and the world of power

if it was human lands and politics then it’d make sense, they don’t follow magic bound laws

does that mean kallias sees viviane, who was in charge while he was UtM, as weak? no

if feyre wants to hate tamlin for not teaching her anything like girl at first u didn’t care about it and then u were traumatised and whisked away to nc, when was he suppose to teach u??

even if we ignore magic choosing the ruler rule….

she married a high lord and got her title, but she hasn’t earned it

it would be one thing if she worked after getting it through marriage but she hasn’t. all she did was destroy a court, attack lady autumn, look down on her citizens like her mate and opened a paint studio like?? that’s not ruling

“i’m the high lady of night court, i can do as i please” but u can’t honey, that’s not how it works

it’s a title she shows off but she doesn’t do the job it requires, and i don’t see how she is respected for it- for being a high lady

feyre hasn’t earned the title of being a high lady

she hadn’t even earned a position of power or a position in a court

for nesta, i don’t believe she’s ready nor has earned a title of a ruler either, but she is educated enough to be a part of a court

nesta was meant to married for power but it’s feyre who actually did

looking back, it’s crazy how much tamlin not naming her a high lady bothered her and she did no self reflection on it

[loveandleases]

This just happened to me what do the Ro's do if Mc screams from their room jolts out screaming their was a spider near their face in their bed and they are scared to go back to bed (legit woke up to a big spider next to my face forever traumatized 💔)

That is nightmare fuel right there.

❤️ Cam - "Where?! Where was it? Did you bring it with you? Shit, did you just give it directions to my room?!"

He will usher MC to his room, allowing them to sleep in the back of the bed, farthest away from the door. They can even cuddle if it makes MC feel better, I mean Cam is absolutely willing to do that for them.

"It's not like I'm afraid of it or anything, I mean I could go take care of it right now. But... oh what, what if it's like a rare species? I gotta let it live. Conservation and all that."

(such a little liar.)

💙 G - They're not afraid, they're a vet. They can handle arachnids. Yet it takes them a good ten minutes to go into your room. They refuse to let MC come in, since clearly MC is afraid. They'll hear some things falling over, that was not a scream. G would never. Then G comes out, stone faced and grabs MC by the hand and heads to their own apartment with them in tow. "Wait, what are you... did you not get it?"

G doesn't say anything not at first. Instead they get a glass of wine and down it in one go. "I was thinking, for old time's sake. We let Cam handle it."

MC chooses to say nothing about the tremble of G's hand that holds the glass, or the slightest twitch of their eye. For now, the spider is Cam's problem. *queue ungodly screaming*

💚 Kara - "Aww, you don't have to be afraid. I'll take care of it." She is like the spider whisperer. She isn't afraid of them, if anything she thinks their tiny little bodies and hairs and beady eyes are cute.

"If you're uncomfortable sleeping here we could always… go to my place?" She says, a hint of mischief in those blue eyes.

💛 M - They're prepared, they bring out everything, from sprays to powders. If this isn't a termination situation then M has other methods. They can get the spider out, and into the hall, "Come on little one, I'm trying to be humane here." they say as they nudge the spider closer to Ardent's door.

"Then why are you moving it towards his apartment?"

"Oh... was I?" M says, hoping that playing dumb will cover up that little gremlin streak. They'll take it out, where its safe, if that's what MC wishes. If not, they're ready to help MC and prep their apartment for the future.

💜 Isaac - (dependent on relationship since isaac will be rather flirty early on) He bursts into the room at the sound of MC's scream, his eyes scanning every inch of their body to ensure they're safe. Only to find them on the bed, pointing at the tiny little spider that scurries in the corner of the room. He takes one look, then smirks.

"Damn, I thought you were being murdered in here or something," he drawls, arms crossed as he leans against the door frame. "But nope, just a tiny, defenseless spider terrorizing you."

Isaac strolls over, taking his sweet time, and plucks up the spider. Zero fear. And winks at MC. "You know, if you needed an excuse to get me in your bedroom, babe, you could've just asked."

Then, as he walks past MC to take the spider outside, he adds in a low, teasing voice: "Though if you’re looking for someone to keep you safe at night… I wouldn’t mind volunteering."

Isaac then takes the spider outside, and plops it on one of the flower beds that he has meticulously taken care of.

🖤 Ardent - (he is getting a long one because idk i feel like making him suffer a little)

“What the hell is going on?” he grumbles, his voice still thick from waking up.

He doesn't spare the spider a second glance when he sees how shaky MC's hand is when they point at the spider. He's never had an issue with them, despite how fucking big that spider is. Just seeing MC's distress causes him to act. He sighs, shakes his head, and grabs their hand. "Come on."

He then guides them to his apartment, it's an instinct like he's done it a hundred times before, and he doesn't even question it. He settles them in his bed, letting them nestle under the cover. "Just stay here tonight. I'll check again in the morning," he mutters, the weight of sleep thick in his voice.

Without thinking he presses a kiss to their forehead - just a reflex, an unconscious gesture that feels so natural despite everything. With another groan, he sinks back, and his body instinctively curls around MC's. Before MC can even tell him goodnight, he's asleep once more.

The next morning, when he wakes up, and he notices the warmth beside him, that's when it all sinks in. The kiss, the words, the way he pulled them into his bed - it all feels like something he wouldn't do if he were fully awake. When he was acting guarded or like an ass. This causes his irritation to flare as he sits up, raking a hand through his hair that is a mess, clearly still disoriented from a deep sleep.

"Shit…" he groans, muttering under his breath and realizing MC's scent clings to his body. He doesn't wake them, partly because he's still too comfortable with them curled next to him. Instead, he silently marches to their apartment (cam's already gone for the day, which is a small win.) and begins fumigating the place.

He's embarrassed and frustrated, and this will cause him to hate spiders (or love them, dudes in denial) In all honestly he can't put a finger on why he feels the way he does.

"Just get this shit over with," he mutters, spraying the room's corners, his grumpy mood hiding the confusion and vulnerability that he's still sorting through.

[saetiate]

with you, my heart-known home.

itoshi sae x f!reader smut tags: afab reader, established relationship, oral f!receiving, praise, p in v, fluffy domestic sex. genuinely no warnings, just full of love from him to you. dirty talk except it’s sae so it’s His Version of it ahaha. he gets hard when you say i love you wc: 3k

He's staring at you.

A grueling six weeks, a flight, and a shower. It's nothing new, he's the one that told you not to wait up.

But seeing you asleep in his bed after all this time makes his cock twitch in his shorts. He groans to himself, wiping a hand down his face.

Only you would have this effect on him, heavy on his heart, imagining your pussy around his cock when you're right next to him.

Whatever. He should probably get some sleep.

He wraps the blanket around you both, takes the extra time to make sure you're properly tucked in, before wrapping his arm around your waist. Because he did miss you. It's clear in the way he squeezes you tight, presses a kiss to your cheek. You smile in your sleep as if knowingly, tucking his hand into your chest.

What does it say about him that he feels himself get harder at the sight?

He leans his head down into your shoulder. Fuck, you're so warm. You smell like you and the bed and he can't imagine anything sexier. Like home, in a way no other place has truly been.

You turn to him, still half-asleep. He really, really, didn't mean to wake you.

"I know, baby," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Welcome home."

He doesn't really understand it when he's with you, doesn't try to either. Because now you're here, and he's pressing his body over yours, kissing you in your sleep-laden state. He's filled with something deeper than desire, heavier than love, more pulling than devotion. He presses kisses down your neck gently, his hands at your thighs, moving up to your waist, pushing your shirt up so he can feel the plush flesh there, everywhere.

"Sae, Sae, baby, aren't you tired?" you cup his face in your hands, soft skin under your fingertips, half-hooded eyes staring back at you. "You just got back."

He stops at that, his own breath coming heavier than he'd like to admit. "Are you tired? You don't have to do anything."

Your windchime laugh muffles against his chest, makes his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern. "If you want me, you can have me. In whichever way you want."

In whichever way you want. A dangerous offer, for a man like him. He’ll take you up on it, again and again and again. He'll have you, completely.

You kiss him like that, with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, with the way you wake up everyday just to blanket him in it. Sae adores it, feels a twinge of guilt with the way he wants to devour it. Lips move into tongue that move into teeth, nipping at your lower lip. His hands know your skin, they feel like they’re covering you everywhere, hot and aching as they delve under your clothes, up to your breasts, cupping them softly and running his thumb right over your nipple, swallowing down a gasp from you.

He only separates from you to look at your reaction, love-bitten lips with a sheen of saliva like gloss, eyes focused on him alone, how your chest rises and falls under his hands.

He takes your top off carefully, like a reveal, gaze stuck to you, tongue wetting his lips before he brings his mouth right to your sternum. He can feel the flutter of your heartbeat underneath, proof of you underneath him, proof of the effect he has on you after all these years.

"Pretty," he mumbles into your skin, both hands cupping either sides of your breasts. He tilts his head to the side, bringing one nipple into his mouth, his hand sliding under your back as you arch into it, fingers over the dip of your spine.

He takes his time, despite the way his cock throbs in his pants. "You're pretty."

You flush at the attention. "Sae."

He lifts himself up to pull your pants down and off, his eyes following every move, your exposed body beneath him in the dark of the room. It almost makes him wish the lights were on, so that he could really admire you, watch as he makes you squirm under his touch.

He'll do that anyways. "Stay still."

His arms wrap around your thighs, his hands lacing through yours over your hips — a gentle affection, like a ribbon wrapped around a present. And then his mouth is on you, kissing your clit first, then teasing you by bringing his tongue along one side of your slit, from the bottom all the way up until he's just shy of your clit, then repeating on the other side.

"Sae," you try again, breath hitching.

"Do you touch yourself when I'm not home?" He takes in the way your clit exposes itself past the petals of your folds, puffy and waiting, beckoning him like a ship to a lighthouse.

"Answer me." You can feel his mouth moving over your core as he speaks.

"I- sometimes?" You answer breathlessly. That grants you closer to what you want, the flat of tongue lapping over from the bottom to the top of your slit.

"What do you think about?" He's both relentless and holding back, too slow to grant you reprieve but too persistent with his tongue to let you properly think. A perfect balance that only he knows, that only he can sustain with you, that keeps you holding onto him like a lifeline.

"You. You, always you."

(He has to make you feel like this. It's the only way he can feel like there's been due diligence in your dynamic — you, finally knowing some part of how he feels. Like you own him.)

He hums in response instead, vibrations against your core, tasting each drip of wetness you give him, drinking you in.

"Like this," you continue. "I think of you like this."

Long laps of his tongue turn into kitten licks, starting at the bottom and working his way up. Every second he takes to get to the top feels drawn out, taffy being pulled until his tongue finally swirls over your clit, like burnt sugar snapping.

"Is it like how you imagined?"

"Better." That has a ghost of a smile forming over his lips, a little reward given to you for it with kitten-licks against your clit. "You're- Sae-," you don't know how you're supposed to hold a conversation like this. You try to thrust your hips to quicken the pace only to no avail, his grip tight on you, and even that has heat slinking through you.

"How." His tongue digs through your folds despite the question.

"Wha-" Another gasp leaves your throat before you can finish.

"How is it better." He wrings a whine out from you, pressure building inside you like a dam, his hot breath over your cunt as he speaks. "Tell me."

"It's- you do it slower. You're not in a rush. You take your time." The words race out of you in a single breath, all you're able to give with how quickly your mind starts to feel cloud-stuffed, devolving into whimpers and gasps, muscles in your legs wound tight.

He responds to you in the worst way, by slowing down. Bringing you to the edge only to keep you there, forcing every nerve inside you to feel like it's gone haywire.

"That's- Sae, please. Not- not what I meant." Your breath comes short, your whines filling the air, shaking in his grasp.

"Oh, no?" You swear you can feel him smirk below you, you look down to find that glint in his darkened eyes.

He gives in, then. He always does with you, inevitably, like how the tide moves with the moon. Presses your body down with ease before you can buck your hips, tongue lathing over your clit in circles and kitten laps until your hands squeeze his and your back arches. He moans into your cunt, and even that soft sound from him has you reeling closer, your clear effect on him makes you feverish.

"That's it," he rasps, a beckoning that you can't help but respond to. His mouth covers over your core, his hot breath and tongue an onslaught as you teeter towards the edge, your slick seeping into his mouth.

Just as you warn him you’re about to come, he slides his fingers into you, has you clenching around his long fingers and he tilts them up in a way that has you tensing even further and crashing down so fast, pretty noises filling the room as heat rushes through your body, your thighs clenching tight, your slick coating his hand.

He doesn't stop, even then, with your slick dripping down his chin. His tongue is relentless and unwavering over your clit, something you start to register slowly as feeling returns to you and your legs kick out uncontrollably. You're gasping into the air, every swirl of the muscle over the sensitive area is a pleasure that leaves you struggling to breathe, so sensitive that it's bordering on painful. His eyes smile with how cute he finds it, the way you thrash in his hold. There isn't a world where he doesn't let you bite into his heart and eat it raw. Your palm presses against his forehead, pushing him away with the overstimulation. He grabs at your hand, giving a wet kiss to the back of it.

"Good," he says it with a sigh of relief, like certifying something is to his satisfaction, pleased with your reaction to him, a hidden metric only for him to decipher. His tongue wets his lips just slightly to taste the rest of your essence, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "Good girl."

That has you bringing a hand up to your face, hiding the expression he knows so well, only for him to catch your hands in his and press a wet kiss to your cheek, so cute under him that he can't resist this little act of affection.

He lets his pants drop, wrapping a hand around his cock, leaking with pre as the head presses against your core. His hands slide up and down the inside of your thighs, your supple skin giving way under his touch, pressing down and spreading them open wider.

So he can see, you realize. Watch the way you open up for him. You whine at him in embarrassment.

"Behave," he hushes with a pointed look that has you obeying without thought, staying as still and relaxed as you can as he pushes in. There's a pretty sigh he makes as your warmth envelops him, his eyes fluttering shut, looming over you and dropping his forehead to yours.

You're all pliant under him, ripe fruit his for the taking, leaking juices over his member. You claw at his shoulders, his name babbling over your lips over and over. Even with the way he prepped you, the stretch is still there. Nothing compares.

He slides in and out of you in short strokes, the fullness of it reaching deeper and deeper as each inch pushes into you, has you trying to remind yourself to take deep breaths. Until his hips meet yours, earning from you a desperate mewl.

"You're doing good," he presses a kiss to your hairline, chest to chest with him so you can both feel the way the other heaves. The validation makes your cunt flutter around him, opened up for him with a familiarity. Your slick coats his cock with a sheen as he pulls out and pushes back into you in slow thrusts.

"I think of you too." He tells you this as his cock presses impossibly deeper with each press of his hips.

"What?" You pant.

"When I'm away."

That does something to you, makes you leave crescent moon indents from your nails into his skin. "You should — ah — call, next time."

"Yeah? Why's that, hm?" His thumb runs in circles over your waist, a gentle gesture that makes your heart drip with your cunt as he's thrusting into you.

"Wanna- wanna hear you." You tell him this as he rocks into you over and over again, gentle and caring, full of his cock and his love all tied up in one.

Sae huffs. "You wouldn't like it."

"I- I like it. It's you."

"I'd make you wait." He emphasizes it by bringing his hand down between your legs where you're connected, tapping the pearl of your clit. "Make you touch yourself until you're begging to come."

He'd need to hear you beg. To know he has even half the effect on you that you have on him. To make sure you're as heavy with craving as he is.

"Sae," it's more a chant than a complaint, makes him want to tease you just a little more. But then your arms are wrapping tight around his neck, your ankles high on his waist and looping behind him.

"Missed you," you whisper right against his ear, your voice more pitched with each word. "Missed you so much. I love you."

He feels the swell of your words both in his mind and his cock. He can't process what this does to him. Makes his head so heady with lust, like being drunk from the sight and sound of you. He takes your hand in his, laces his fingers through. Kisses you chaste, a warning.

And then he fucks you hard. Until the bed shifts against the wall. Until your whispers and moans become sobs and silent screams. The tip of his cock brushes against your cervix on every other hit, numbing your mind completely. That's how he wants you. So dumbed out on his cock that you can't speak, can't think. So mindless below him that you only know him, feel him, need him.

He'd smile at the lack of retort on your tongue if he could. Instead, he finds himself panting through gritted teeth at how you tighten around him. He strains to focus past the feeling and on your voice, on the way you say his name over and over again, how your tone pitches higher, a sure sign of the wave that will overcome you both.

"Good, fuck, that's it," he can't deny your effect on him, not like this, not with your walls fluttering around him. But more than that, is feeling you. You in your entirety, your body against his, your warmth that he missed so dearly, your love that you encompass him in — the irreplaceable feeling that pulls him so much closer to the edge, so much faster than he can help.

"Good girl," he says it in lieu of something more, with a shaky breath and the stuttering of his hips. His fingers, coated with your slick, runs circles over your clit, pleasure hot in your veins. He swears again when he looks down and sees that foamed ring at the base of his member, how the honey-drip of your essence wraps around his cock in a gleam. It surges something possessive in him.

"Come for me," it's something between a command and a plea. Let me hear it, let me watch you fall apart under me. What is attention, if not some sort of prayer? All of his focus, of heart and of mind, is on you. Something like revelation settles deep in his mind, something so heart-known, as what he feels for you bubbles to the surface. "I love you. Come for me."

It's your undoing, a desperate whine, your entire body tensing, taut like a bowstring. He doesn't stop, never falters, not with how beautiful you look as your breath comes short and every fibre of your body only knows him. He whispers your name, as gentle as the rain, and you jerk up into his hold, gushing wetness around his hard cock, the fullness of it inside you so acute as your walls clamp down.

He's not much farther off after that. He has to watch you, first. Has to feel satisfied with the strength of the orgasm you give him before he's fucking into you again, fast thrusts that come with a swear, that follow with your name so pretty on his lips again, that has him spilling inside of you, his body shuddering with the intensity of it.

He stops himself short of collapsing completely on top of you, his hand resting against the headboard, the rise and fall of his chest against yours with every deep breath. His other hand cups right under your chin, pulling you in for a deep kiss, your cheeks slightly squished in his hand as he takes your breath and breathes you in all at once.

Your shaky legs drop onto the bed, gliding your legs against his and pulling him in close. He parts from you only to lay his forehead against yours, craves your closeness with a soreness in his chest that makes him hold you that much tighter in his arms.

The morning light starts to glide past the curtains, casts a halo around you, an angelic bloom, a sharp light-strike across the high of your cheek.

He loves you so much with no real way to describe it, no vocabulary that he has spent building up for this moment the same way he built his skills up for his career. He won't ruin this moment with you with some half-hearted effort at trying to process his feelings into a language. It is better, in his mind, to leave this untouched by words, to show you instead.

When he kisses you deeply again, it feels like a question. Can I tell you how much I love you, even without having to say it?

And when you kiss him back, pull him in closer, it's like an answer, knowing and bright as the light. I speak your language. I hear it from you everyday.

author's note: hello, thank you for reading <3 more sae from yours truly. i wrote this with a lot of love and heart <3 i hope it comes across

[jscrawls]

Grave mistakes

Gotham City is full of a lot of characters, criminals, creepy clowns, man eating plants, eccentric billionaires. But all that rolled into one household?

Warning: contains mentions of poor mental health, death, general spooky stuff, it's an Addams reader they're gonna be freaky,

Part 1: digging dirt

🔹🔹🔹

Jason's having one of those days, his hands ache a little too much, his scars pulling a little too tight, the ringing of metal as someone worked on their car grit in his ears a little too loudly, It's overstimulating. he doesn't even feel Like…..a person right now, he feels more like a body caring for itself. So he did what he usually does when he's not quite all there, he walks. Wanders around until he finds somewhere quiet enough to stuff himself back into his own head, until his body feels like him again. And that's how he found himself here of all places, a graveyard, the graveyard. Someone's still taking care of it, it seems. The grass is neatly manicured and the stone is moss free, he hates that in a way. The stupid gravestone looks like it's been shown more care than he has. He hates that he can still clearly read it.

“What a dreadful graveyard, you must be very proud of it.” A mystery voice chimes from behind him, who the fuck snuck up on him?

Spinning around with a snarl on his lip, Jason's greeted by the sight of a….Goth witch? That doesn't bode well on Bruce's property.

“Who the ever loving fuck are you?” his hand rests on the grip of his gun, warning enough to not try anything too hasty. Damn what if they're a meta-

“oh excuse my manners, I'm your new neighbor.” The mystery goth steps closer without any hesitation and holds out their hand, their other hand holding a…casserole dish? Oh right, Alfred mentioned something about a neighbor…They introduce themselves as an Addams like they're not standing in a graveyard and he's armed, alright then…

“Okay…I'm Jason Todd...? I'm not your neighbor though, i don't live here.” He glances back down at the gravestone, his gravestone-

“Oh? Then i suppose you'll just be my new friend then instead of my new neighbor.” They glance down at the stone as well, noticing the obvious. “Oh is that yours? You have one already picked out and placed? How macabre!” They smile, Jason's gut twists at the sight.

“No it's not-that's just uhh…don't worry about it alright? I used it and then.. Got better?” Jason wants to bury himself Alive right now, what kind of an answer is that? They just had to catch him on one of his bad days.

“you know, my dear grandmama has done that quite a few times. The lady just can't seem to stay buried for more than a few weeks at a time. One of these days…” The goth sighs wistfully at that, seeming unbothered. Are they mocking him?

“I'm not on the mood for jokes.” He grunts out, shoving his hands in his pockets and going to step around them. He'd prefer to wallow in his fucked up mental state without an audience.

“Grandmama’s perchance for breaking the barriers between the living and the dead is no laughing matter my new-not-neighbor-friend, say do you know the man living here? I'd like to return this to it's rightful owner before the poltergeists smash it.”

Jason stares at them for a long, silent moment. They said all that with a straight face. Must be committed to their aesthetic to the nth. The thought of seeing Bruce right now sounds about as enjoyable as crawling on broken glass on his hands and knees, but they seem to expect something from him. God he hates social obligations…

“I'm not even gonna ask, give me the dishes and I'll get em back to Bruce.”

“Who is ‘Bruce’? I was under the impression the resident here was named Alfred.”

“No that's the butler- wait, you don't know who your neighbor is? How can you move in beside one of the wealthiest man in the country without knowing?”

“oh is Gomez here? That sneaky devil already bought property in this wonderful city without telling me? Oh I could die of jealousy!"

The goth seems…happy? Jason doesn't want to snap them out of it just yet. They're obviously crazy and he's not ready to deal with the fallout. He's ready to just say fuck it and leave, but he doesn't want to leave Alfred to deal with them…

“Gomez? No this is Bruce Wayne's house. You know, billionaire philanthropist?” he turns towards the back of the mansion and starts walking, ready to go drink until he can't see his reflection straight on. Who cares that it's only four in the afternoon.

“Wayne? Was he the one in Jersey shore?” They say with curiosity, stepping after him with casserole dish in hand.

that actually gets a startled laugh out of Jason, picturing Bruce on Jersey shore with Nikki and big Mike. “No, God no. That'd be a sight to see though…. You don't seem the type to watch that show, i bet supernatural is more your thing, what with the whole….goth thing.” Is he making conversation? Wow, go Jason i guess.

“i enjoy the chaos and violence.” Is all they say, following him to the manor.

“…alright fair enough.” He falls silent again, the only sound being the crunching of leaves underfoot. God he's not good at this, this feels awkward very quickly. At least to him, they seem intrigued with the sights of the graveyard.

“so how did you die, I'm assuming you used the gravestone in death. Yes? Not unless you enjoy a little being buried alive action, i dabble in it time to time myself so don't feel awkward. Do tell.”

Do they have to press on about that? What kind of freaky shit are they into- “you're fucking demented.” he hisses out before he can catch himself, wow way to make a nice impression on Bruce's new, probably rich if they're buying up land in this neighborhood, neighbor.

“Oh? Aren't you a romantic one, My new-not-my-neighbor-friend.”

“…that wasn't-can we drop this? You're driving me nuts.”

“You're very sweet, perhaps we can explore this another time then. Please tell Alfred the casserole was positively horrible! Toodles!”

And just like that they turn on their heel and leave, disappearing into the- wait why is it suddenly foggy? Jason shakes his head and briefly ponders whether any of that was even real, or if he's gone off the deep end this time. The weight of the casserole dish on his arm the only thing assuring him he's not full blown hallucinating like certain people he knows.

He gets a few steps closer to the manor when he pauses again, he feels…. Okay. Not great but…he feels like a human instead of a ghost occupying a body. Huh. Guess meeting someone crazier than you'll fix you.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: ngl I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, Jason's fun to write! Any feedback is appreciated as I figure out how to write other ppls POV TYYYYY 🖤💜🖤💜

[fizzing-imagines]

hiiii! I would love to see your thoughts on the NSFW alphabet for either Eddie or Jonathan?? Maybe both if you feel so inclined to do both!! I loved the one for Steve :)

smooches!! <3

Thank you for the request!! I did Eddie for this ask because Jonathan is going to take me a bit since writing him is still new to me. I hope you enjoy! I'll tag you in the Jonathan one once it's up 🫶🏻

‼️MDNI‼️

NSFW Alphabet - Eddie Munson

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

Very needy. All over you, kissing, hugging, making sure you're okay. But Eddie loves when you take him in your arms and play with his hair

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

BOOB MAN! He shamelessly takes peeks whenever he can. But they don't only look good, he likes to use them as pillows as well. Eddie loves listening to your heartbeat come steady again after he roughed you up

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

Loves when you swallow, especially when you show him afterwards that you did by sticking your tongue out

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

Enjoys being dominated, even if he won't admit to that

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

He canonically has a bit of experience, but most of his experience happens with you. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing in the beginning but with some patience and instruction Eddie now makes you sing like a bird

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl and Missionary.

Cowgirl because that plays into him enjoying being dominated. Plus, your boobs bounce so beautifully.

Missionary because he gets to see your face and kiss you. Especially when Eddie is feeling needy, it's his go-to.

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

He makes jokes in between, but when you're exploring kinks together he's a bit more serious. But that won't stop Eddie from making fun of himself if he falls off the bed.

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

I feel like he just let's it grow. Once you two started having sex regularly, he trimms it whenever he was time

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

Likes being romantic, but doesn't need it all the time. But he does see the way your face lits up when he's mid-thrusts and an "I love you." comes out. He loves it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

His sex-drive is high, so he jacks off a LOT. Once he got with you, it wasn't that much anymore, but he still does it when you're not around to help him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage. Those handcuffs above his bed? They're for you.

He's also into light spanking, especially when your hands are tied behind your back and you're bend over his bed.

Occasionally, he's into spitting in your mouth but that only happens when the bondage and spanking is already involved.

Overall, he likes powerplay.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The back of his van has become a favourite for the both of you. It's convenient, and his uncle can't just barge in. Although he's never been opposed to doing it in his bedroom as long as he knows he'll be alone for a while.

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

Not even Eddie himself can pinpoint it. It's just you that turns him on. The way you walk, your smile, your laugh, everything. He loves you as a whole, and is attracted to you as a whole.

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

Hard spanking. You could beg him for it, but he could never hurt you too much. A red handprint doesn't bother him, but a bruise is too much. It already took you months to have him try out choking, and he's careful with that as well.

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

Wouldn't admit it because he loves diving face-first into your pussy, but he prefers receiving just a bit more. It plays into how he loves cuming in your mouth.

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

Usually, he's fast. In the beginning, Eddie was fast to a point where it was too fast, but he eventually found a good pace that both of you enjoyed.

He's very capable of going slow and sensual. Especially when he's being a big softie. That's always paired with soft kisses and lots of "I love you." 's.

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

Doesn't mind them, that's why he has a blanket in the back of his van. He prefers having more time with you, but he's still a fan of quickies.

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

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't really like anything public. His van is the furthest he'd go. Only he gets to see you like that, and he'd prefer it to stay that way.

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

After learning with you, he can go for a good 2 rounds and extensive foreplay. But he's dead-tired after that.

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

Most of the toys are bondage toys. You two tried dildos out on you before, and while he enjoyed that it's not a stable in the bedroom.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does enjoy teasing you a lot. Hand on your thighs, on your butt, whispered comments on what he'd do to you. Likes seeing you riled up before giving you your release.

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

Very vocal. He'll tell you how good you feel, that you're beautiful while getting pounded or how tight you feel around him. Eddie thinks it's important for you to know that you're doing a good job.

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

Would live to try out roleplay, in which he'd get dominated. Like a cop-thief fantasy, for example.

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

I think Eddie is pretty average, both in lenght and thickness. There's a curve to it, and he knows how to make you see stars with it. Pretty veiny as well, especially when he's hard.

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

High. Very, very high. If he could, he'd do it all the time. When you're home alone and it's the weekend, you two barely leave the bedroom.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very fast. After a few minutes of kisses and cuddles, he falls asleep with his head on your chest (clothes or not)

[softlypaintedseafoam]

🍓ー thank you for your patronage at the strawberry witch’s bakery! here’s your order!

requested by: a lovely anon 🍓 -> law + strawberry tart (making up after a fight)

It's 2am when you drag yourself out of the sleeping quarters and Law is already in the kitchen. A small ache of discomfort forms in your chest, the two of you watching one another warily.

Your mouth opens, lips dry and stiff, but not one sound comes. Not a single word. With a grimace, your mouth closes again. It isn't until Law raises it that you notice the coffee pot nestled in his hands, "want a cup?" In spite of the question, his voice is strained and his brown eyes seem black.

It's bait, hesitant as it may be, it's bait.

Knowing this fact, it's difficult to make yourself ignore it and turn around promptly. Maybe it's how his eyebags seem more prominent in the Polar Tang's lighting and how his hair is messy at all sides. Law's isn't one who tosses and turns in his sleep. No, he sleeps much like a log once he's surrendered himself to sleep. A quick breath escapes you before you step forward, gently nudging Law away from the cupboards.

"2am isn't the right time for making coffee," you murmur, reaching for your collection of chamomile tea. "Doctors are the worst patients; you never listen to your own advice."

There's a pout in his voice when he replies, "I'm not sick, so there's no advice I'm breaking right now."

Your response is a subdued snort of disbelief. "Regardless, you won't get to sleep with coffee. We don't even have decaf." Another bold-faced lie that Law doesn't have the desire to press. The crew never buys anything decaffeinated coffee beans; it'd be a nightmare if Bepo and Shachi got their hands on anything but. "So put that thing down. Let the real kitchen master do their thing here."

With your orders, it's as if you're roles have switched and you're the captain of the Heart Pirates. Law steers clear of your way, far enough you won't bump into one another, but close enough. You don't feel the desire to snip at him because of it, not even as you awkwardly wait by the stovetop watching the kettle.

Close enough to feel one another's presence, but not so close you're pressing against one another either. Like there's an invisible line preventing the two of you from fully indulging in one another's touch. It's an uncomfortable feeling that not even a warming pot water can fix.

You're a couple that seldom has arguments. Regardless of how many battles you conquer, however, you'll never get used to this energy. You'll never get used to the feeling of not knowing how to function properly in this odd period after a fight's taken place. You wish your mind would stop going over the 'I could have done this differently's. You didn't do those things differently and no amount of reflection will take you back to that moment in time before things escalated.

A sigh escapes your mouth. There's no time like the present, at least. "Law-"

"I'm sorry," the dark-haired man says before you're able to truly start. You look to your left, eyebrows knit and lips pursed. "You were trying to help. I was being stubborn."

"I shouldn't have called you bullheaded and insensitive," you reply, your voice feeling too loud for the quiet of the kitchen. Even if Law can be stubborn, you know better than anyone Law is sensitive. There's too much care of his in that tall body of his than he knows what to do with. "I just worry sometimes that… you might go overboard. Like when you were dealing with Joker."

Separating himself from the crew to deal with the Warlord on his own was gut-wrenching on its own. Now with Wano on the horizon and an Emperor of the Sea along with it, your anxieties only feel heighten. "I just want you to rely on us more. We all do. No more trying to make yourself the only casualty; just trust that we'll be able to rise to the challenge once it's here. Please."

You're not sure what thoughts are swimming in the doctor's mind, watching carefully how his face contorts with your every word. Law cares. Too much at times. "I'm not asking you to change overnight," you start again, brushing the back of your hand against his. "But some baby steps would be nice, don't you think?"

His smile is tired but it can't hide itself, "baby steps are doable."

[foggieststars]

feed me please.

for you my love... thank you for all of your wonderful art i hope u know how much i appreciate u!!!! pls have some girl charles getting fingered at the FIA gala for your efforts <3

-

Charles doesn't think anything of it at first, when Max's hand brushes against her knee. They're packed in like sardines around this table, and she thinks he's just adjusting his chair, or something.

At first.

They're awarding some of the junior categories right now, fresh-faced F1 hopefuls bumbling their way through grateful speeches. Charles remembers when that was her, looking out across a sea of faces, searching for the F1 drivers, hoping beyond everything that one day it would be her.

And now it is. She made it to F1, she's here to collect her runner-up trophy, and underneath the tablecloth she's got her biggest rival's hand inching steadily up her thigh.

Charles stiffens when Max's hand reaches the hem of her dress. She turns towards him under the guise of a joke, leans in as if she's trying to be heard over the voice of the announcer.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hisses into Max's ear, smiling when she pulls away. Max's hand tightens around her thigh in response, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. The hair on Charles’ arms stands on end.

“What do you mean?” Max asks, and Charles dares a glance around them. The cameras are focused on the stage for now, thank god, but she knows they’ll be doing a sweep of the tables soon, trying to grab reactions from relevant people. There’s hardly anyone more relevant here than Max. 

“Your girlfriend’s here,” Charles reminds him through clenched teeth, though she doesn’t know where the delightful Eloise has run off to. 

Max shrugs, hand travelling higher, thumb continuing those gloriously broad sweeps of skin. “So’s your boyfriend.” 

Charles hasn’t even seen Louis in half an hour. He’ll be in a corner somewhere, schmoozing with anybody who looks like they might be important. 

Charles can feel her heartbeat loud in her ears, a warmth spreading through her body. Max’s hand doesn’t stop moving, pausing at the very apex of her thigh. 

Anyone could see them like this. Anyone at all. The thought shouldn’t make Charles’ cunt throb. 

“Besides,” Max says, voice low, so as not to catch the attention of Lando, only two seats away and looking terminally bored. “You like this, yes?” 

Charles bites down on her bottom lip, wondering if any of her lipstick will transfer to her teeth. She doesn’t say anything, just blows out a shaky breath when Max’s fingertips move further, searching for something he’s not going to find. 

His fingers still when they reach the damp heat between her thighs. “Are you–” he chokes, a gentle colour rising in his cheeks. 

“You cannot wear underwear with this dress,” she mutters defensively, trying not to hitch her hips up into the barely-there sensation of his fingers. 

Max snorts, shakes his head in disbelief. “Whatever you say.” 

Charles is about to snap something at him, and then his thumb finds her clit. She shuts her mouth so sharply her teeth click together. She has to, otherwise she might scream.

It’s not that sex with her boyfriend is bad, per se - it’s just lacking. In what, Charles doesn’t know. Louis is good with his hands, with his tongue. There’s just no passion. Louis likes candlelit dinners, nights snuggled up on the sofa watching a terrible movie. 

It’s the opposite of the way Max makes her feel. Basically all the two of them have is passion. Charles struggles to imagine Max wanting to go to her mother’s apartment for brunch on a Sunday, taking long walks by the sea. 

As Max grins at her and rolls her clit with his thumb, Charles struggles to remember why that’s supposed to be a bad thing. It must be a bad thing, because otherwise there’d be no reason to keep it such a secret. But with his hand between her legs coaxing pleasure out of her, Charles can’t bring herself to feel even a little bit bad about it. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, aware of the way her face is heating up. Her eyes dart up to the stage, where they’re no longer handing out awards. Instead, it’s the chaos of category change, trophies being carried on and straightened up. The cameras are on the hosts of the event.

Charles slumps down in her seat slightly, creating a gap between her lower back and the seat. It’s uncomfortable, but the access it gives Max to her cunt makes it worth it.  

He takes the opening she’s given him, slides his index finger into her pussy with zero warning. Charles can’t help it; she lets a moan slip free at the sensation. It’s a toe-curling feeling. Fingering doesn’t usually do a whole lot for her on its own, but it’s the context. She’s surrounded by important people, men who could make or break her career with a snap of their fingers, and she’s letting Max finger her in front of them. 

She reaches for the glass in front of her on the table, picks it up with a slightly shaking hand. The water is cool and refreshing, and nowhere near enough to douse the growing fire inside of her.

Max slips another finger in, and Charles jerks in her seat, water spilling down her wrist. Lando raises his eyebrows in her direction, but turns back to talking to his neighbour pretty quickly. 

“Max,” Charles hisses. “You can’t - oh, fuck,” she moans, when his fingers curl inside of her. It’s too much, here, now. 

“I can’t what?” he asks, voice slightly too loud for her liking. “I can do anything I want. You’ll let me do anything to you, won’t you?” 

“Fuck you,” Charles grits out. She takes a deep, steadying breath through her nose. 

Unfortunately, he’s kind of right. Charles does things with Max she’d never dream of letting another guy do to her. She demands a high price in return; she’s pretty sure Max has never let any of his wispy little girlfriends fuck him with a strap-on. There’s nothing she won’t let him do to her, nothing he won’t let her do to him. 

Charles blames this horrible, animalistic thing that lives between their bodies. It’s like a livewire, electrifying and deadly to touch. Most men fall at her feet, but Max makes her crawl. 

His thumb finds her clit again, scissoring his fingers simultaneously. 

Charles bites down on the inside of her cheek so hard her mouth floods with the taste of metal. It’s better than screaming. 

And then, a man’s approaching Max, clapping him on the shoulder. The shoulder attached to the hand that’s currently inside of her. Charles thanks the lord for long tablecloths.

“Max!” the man’s saying. “I’ve been looking for you all night.” The man looks vaguely familiar when he smiles in her direction. Charles grimaces back at him, fully aware of the hot flush on her face. 

“Hello, Robert,” Max greets warmly, no indication that he’s currently fingering his rival under the table. “How are you doing?” He reaches for a handshake with his free hand, and Charles wants to die. 

They lapse into boring chatter, nothing that Charles really pays attention to. It’s not like she even can. The scope of her world has narrowed down to the feeling of Max’s fingers moving inside of her, the continuous pulse of her cunt, the wetness between her thighs. 

“And what about you, Charles?” the man asks, and now she wants to die even more. 

“Sorry?” she asks, smiling weakly. Max’s fingers start to move faster inside of her, his thumb circling her clit in a steady, unrelenting motion. “I was a bit - mm, lost in thought.” 

The man regards her warily. An FIA official, maybe? Charles can’t place him. 

“I was asking how you are enjoying the evening so far.” 

Oh, god, Charles can’t do this. There’s arousal building in her stomach, a tightening in anticipation. Clear evidence of it is running down her thighs. 

“Oh, you know,” she says, voice shaking. “Free food, free wine, a trophy. What is not to like?”

The man laughs, and Max smirks, crooking his fingers deliberately. The motion is obscene, a stroking motion right against that spot inside of her that makes her feel all twisted-up and squirmy. And also like she needs to piss. 

Christ, that’s all she needs - the first time in her life that she squirts, and she does it at the FIA gala. All over the world champion’s suit. 

Maybe that would finally encourage him to buy a new one. 

The man keeps talking to them, and Charles mostly gets away with smiles and nodding. He leaves, finally, with another clap on Max’s shoulder, a polite nod in her direction. 

“Fuck,” Charles whispers. “Jesus, Max.” 

Max’s thumb starts moving faster, tight, quick circles against her clit, drawing her to the edge. “Come on,” he grunts. Maybe his wrist is starting to hurt. Good. 

Charles moves her hips in tiny, aborted motions. She needs to do something to get the energy out, the fizzing anticipation racing through her bloodstream. It makes the tablecloth move, but Charles doesn’t have room left in her brain to care.

Charles’ hands curl into fists, nails cutting into her palms. The pain of it is clarifying, just in time for her orgasm to hit her like a freight train. 

Charles hitches forward in her seat, the feeling too much for her to cope with. She can’t hide her small moan of pleasure, the expression on her face. She ducks her face and fumbles for the buckle of her shoe, pretending to be fixing it, as the pleasure washes over her like a wave. 

The movement dislodges Max’s hand, practically flattens it against the seat, but Charles doesn’t care. She keeps it locked between her thighs even as he tries to withdraw, grinds out the aftershocks against his palm. Her cunt’s so slick with desire that there’s no resistance, just the smooth glide against his hand. 

“Charles,” Max says. “Can I have my hand back?” he sounds far too composed for her liking. 

Charles shifts, allows him to withdraw his arm. She can’t speak just yet. 

When he pulls his hand out from between her thighs, his fingers are glistening. Wet with her. He wipes them off on the tablecloth. It shouldn’t be hot, the thought of Max dirtying up these no doubt very expensive tablecloths with her desire, but it is. 

“You are a fucking bastard,” Charles tells him, and Max tosses his head back, laughs like he knows. 

Suddenly, there’s a harried looking production assistant at Charles’ shoulder, nudging her. 

“Yes?” Charles frowns at the woman, who smiles at her nervously. 

“You need to be backstage now.” She checks her watch. “Well, two minutes ago, actually.” 

“Oh,” Charles gasps, all too aware of the frantic throbbing of her heartbeat, the matching pulse in her cunt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was our time so soon.” 

“That’s why Robert was over here, you know?” Max smiles at them politely. “He gave us a five-minute warning. You cannot have forgotten this already!” He laughs, and the assistant laughs too, though hers is tinged with panic. It can’t be a great time, rounding up disgruntled celebrities. 

Finally, it clicks where Charles knew the man who’d come to speak to them from. The fucking program co-ordinator, the guy who’d explained to them when they’d arrived how the trophies would be handed out and how much time they had to speak. Fuck. 

Charles is going to fucking kill him. 

She gapes wordlessly at Max, adrenaline rising in her body until she’s not sure whether she’s going to punch him in the face or start sprinting for the exit. He keeps smiling at her until she stands on shaking legs. 

Charles wishes she had a witty rejoinder to leave him with, something to show that his victory isn’t as complete as he’s imagining it to be. There’s nothing, nothing in her head. 

She turns and follows the woman on shaking legs, positively soaked between her thighs. She’ll be lucky if that doesn’t show up on camera, the bright lights reflecting off her skin when she crosses the stage to accept her third-place trophy. Maybe people will think it’s body glitter, or something. 

Louis appears out of nowhere, slings an arm around her shoulder, gives her a tight squeeze. 

“Good luck,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her cheek just before the aide leads her backstage. “You’ll be wonderful.” 

Charles smiles wanly in his direction, guilt roiling in her stomach. She’d actually… forgotten he was even here tonight. 

She’s led backstage, and before she hands her purse off to the woman, she fumbles in it for her phone. 

“So sorry,” Charles tells her with an apologetic glance. The woman looks like she’d happily slit Charles’ throat right now, but Charles ignores her. 

She pulls up Max’s contact, thumbs flying over the keypad. 

Meet me in the bathroom once you have your trophy. 

Max’s reply is instantaneous. 

Why? 

Charles doesn’t bother to reply, hands her phone to the assistant. Max will do whatever she tells him to, even if he’s got to make an awkward excuse to his girlfriend. Charles plans to repay the favour. 

If she blows him after reapplying her lipstick, there’s no chance she doesn’t leave a ring of red around the base of his cock. A present for his girlfriend to find later. 

That’ll teach him not to fuck with her.