#its mold its mold!! its growing!! its SPREADING

[catsushinyakajima]

Why Lance is fire and Keith is water

A big mischaracterization of Lance is that he's not a fiery guy, when in fact his personality resembles fire in so many ways. He's hot-headed, far more than Keith, and that's something that's easily missed because Keith is such a reactive guy. Majority of the fights between Keith and Lance are started by Lance. Lance is also quick to always call out bullshit. He's very passionate about what he does and he always has something to say.

Lance has a temper and I think its so crucial to his character and his dynamic with Keith because without it, their relationship becomes a lot more mellow. Most of the time Keith is just standing like an NPC and Lance will get irritated by that and have something to say, hence causing a fight. Lance has the fire, always has, and it simply reflects on Keith.

I'd like to second this point by saying Keith's personality resembles water. Not that he's completely chill and passive, although he can be. But he's extremely turbulent and malleable. If Lance will start a fight he'll match the energy-he'll shape himself into a fighter. Keith has always been moving around from place to place and he's always had to mold himself into what's most suitable for survival, the same way water clings to a glass. He's got a lot of emotional conflicts within him. The fact that Keith's characterization is very similar to water is also alluded to in the fact that Lance is very drawn to both the ocean (water!) and Keith alike. He can't stop pursuing either.

Now I'm not saying that Lance and Keith are opposites when I call them fire and water because I don't think they're opposites at all. Both can grow/spread to great lengths, both carry a storm, and both can also be kind and gentle and necessary to live (ex: a fire provides warmth and water provides sustenance). Water can fuel fire, the same way Keith grows Lance's fire. Fire can also make water steam and boil, the same way Lance makes Keith react. If the water is greater than the fire, the fire will fizzle out; but if the fire is greater than the water, the water will evaporate. They'd have to be on equal levels for this cause-effect relationship to work. And Lance and Keith have always been on equal level (despite any internal insecurities). They always been neck to neck.

Keith and Lance had great characters that could've been explored more. Regardless of if you ship them or not, they had the potential to be very well written foil characters. Unfortunately that didn't happen :(.

[kirbyddd]

somehow comforting to know urban tennessee was a soulless hellhole even 150 years ago

[monstersholygrail]

There were moments you could be paranoid. Who isn't sometimes? But when you swear there's a monster under your bed, everyone simply laughs and brushes off your concerns.

If only they knew, if only they understood. The way strange things kept happening in your bedroom. Your underwear you flicked off that was suddenly nowhere to be seen when you went to pick it up. The way your towel always seemed to fall off your body as soon as you pranced back into your room after a shower.

But every time you looked under your bed, you got no real proof. You narrow your eyes into the particularly dark corner of your bed, even swearing you see a few eyes peeking out. That wouldn't be enough. You needed undeniable proof and you wouldn't stop until you got it.

Your retaliation is swift and brutal. Teasing them mercilessly as you refuse to wear panties in your bedroom. Adorning new skimpy outfits, that way the monster can easily look up and see your glistening pussy. Can smell your arousal and know there’s nothing for your essence to catch onto. Yet they’re immobilized, not being able to steal your panties or reveal themselves to get to you.

You no longer bother putting on a towel after your showers. Leaving your wet body on full display. Taunting the monster under your bed and putting on a show for them as you slowly get dressed.

Making sure to find any excuse you can to bend over, letting the monster watch from afar as you present your body to them.

You can always feel its gaze on you. The way it’s many eyes lock onto your form, their focus unyielding as soon as you open the door to your room. The longer this goes on, the thicker the air in the bedroom grows. Tensions rising and sexual need growing. The frustration and restraint pushing and pulling to create an alluring atmosphere that slowly becomes irresistible.

Affecting not only the monster under your bed but you as well. Sensing such a strong desire from the monster has arousal coursing through you, your pussy getting wetter with each passing day. If their attentions rile you up this much, you start to wonder just how fucked you’ll be when they finally snap and take you like you’ve been waiting for them to.

It’s that same night when the monster under your bed can’t take it anymore. Your bare body squirming on the bed, blanket pushed aside. Their form rages with need, cock already dripping with pre-cum. Their tentacles snap out, not holding back as they spread your body for them and pin you down into the bed.

Tiny groans leave you as you wake up. Eyelashes fluttering open before a gasp rips from your throat at the sight of the monster at the end of the bed. Finally showing themself. Their slick yet soft tentacles tighten their grip in fear of an attempted escape and you moan softly.

“Finally…” you say breathlessly. The monster doesn’t wait a moment longer.

Their cock slides in with ease, which wasn’t surprising given has you had tortured the poor thing by touching yourself right before you slept. Hearing your moans but not being able to see was agony. But now that was all over. The monster growls and instantly starts pounding into your wet hole.

You remain practically still, no matter how much you try to writhe and twitch. So firmly enveloped in their tentacles that all you can do is take it and fall deeper into sensation as their cock savagely snaps into you, wrecking you and molding your body to fit their mindblowing girth.

They fuck into you like a beast, eyes roaming over your jolting form, ears picking up on the way your bodies clap together. All of this being so much better than either of you imagined. They can’t get enough of you, tentacles slipping into your mouth to which you immediately start sucking on them. Only heightening the pleasure for you both.

When your orgasm suddenly crashes into you without warning, you scream around their tentacles, pussy clenching down on their thick cock to milk it for all it’s worth. The monster from under your bed lets out a chilling roar that sends goosebumps down your spine before it shoots his seed deep inside your cunt.

You continue to soothingly suck on their tentacles, giggling as you feel it twitch in your mouth. Wondering how sensitive they are…Thinking you may need more forms of proof to really convince people they’re real.

The monster from under your bed growls once more at the sultry look in your eye. Their tentacles possessively clinging to every inch of you before they start rolling their hips back inside your needy cunt. Ready to fuck you all throughout the long night until they have to return back under your bed when the morning comes.

[rqnarok]

old man!logan obsessing over his pregnant wifey

headcanons - cws/tags: smut! mdni. breeding kink. lactation kink. pregnant sex. dom/sub dynamics.

a/n: okie a lot of u asked for a part two of this blurb, here ya’ go my loves! <3

Logan Howlett used to think he wouldn’t be a good father. Hell, with that temper and attitude? He was sure he’d be the worst one. 

But you don’t seem to agree with him on many things—especially his self-destructive thoughts. I mean, that’s why you let him knock you up in the first place. You’d grin seeing your belly round and full of his babe, tits plump and leaking.

You are too beautiful to behold, “My pretty fuckin’ wife.” A sight that has Logan’s libido reaching its peak, the ones he thought he was not capable of anymore as an old man. 

Yet here he is, dick hard and balls full each time he sees you. 

Shit. You look so soft, walking around the house barefoot and swollen with his offspring. A sick and possessive side of him loves knowing that when you are out in public, it’s apparent that you’re taken by him, carrying his child. 

Pregnancy grants you a restless glow that makes it harder for him to say no to you. “W-wan’ you, please, Lo—” When you beg him to stuff you up full, who is he to deny his wife? Deny the mother of his child? 

He turns into a madman at how your leaking tits bounce up and down when you ride his girth, at how your breasts seem to look when you wear those tight tops, at how your nipples are poking all the damn time, and at how you are hornier than ever.

Yeah, he caught you hiding under the sheets rubbing your swollen clit and fingers deep in your own dripping cunt with his name rolling off your tongue — thinking he’s still doing his late night shift. 

He fucks you as much as he can, the positions getting more and more adapted as your stomach grows, sometimes filthier than ever, “Put your legs up here, baby. Can’t have ya’ sore now, can we?”

His favorite position is still you on your back, thighs spread apart, and belly full on display. “Ya’ got me so fuckin’ hard, pretty.” He doesn’t give a damn that his aging body feels aching—he could watch this for hours. Your face contorted with pleasure as his fat cock thrusts in and out. 

Oh, Logan’s nasty. He says he tries to ‘relieve’ your pain by sucking at your sensitive, leaking nipples while plunging his cock inside of you. “Mhm, such a sweet wife for your old man.” Pumping your full womb while he laps at your milk. 

The almost 200-year-old man believes he has gained stamina—now that he has more responsibility. He’s always ready to load you up for days on end. And that’s exactly what he’ll do for the next few weeks. Molding his cock inside you before sex starts to get all too much for his pregnant wifey. 

Logan’s a natural caretaker. It shows when you’re hitting the post-orgasm soreness and barely do anything except breathe heavily. He never forgets to show his affection, scratching his scruffy grey beard on your neck before softly kneading sensitive parts of your body. 

“Let’s get ya’ cleaned up, mama.”

A bad father? Logan Howlett buried all of his dictionaries and named you his language. 

[plzu]

gif by @38across

savor (aka distance makes the cock grow harder) - Adrian Chase/Reader

summary: Moving in together has made Adrian Chase an insatiable man. It’s made him, maybe, greedy. warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, smut smut smut <3, no Y/N wordcount: 2.3k a/n: dirty quickie for my large iced americano series. u don't have to read the (now completed!) fic first, this can be read on its own :]

Moving in together has made Adrian Chase an insatiable man. It’s made him, maybe, greedy.

Now that you live under the same roof, Adrian can have his fill of you whenever. Fold himself into you, mold the curves of your body against the parts of him that ache for you.

(Which are all his parts, respectively.)

Regardless of the time he gets home, he’ll stride through the apartment with all the determination of a heat-seeking missile and immediately glue himself to your body. If he slips in in the middle of the night, he curls himself around your back and grinds against your ass until you wake up and spread open for him. On brisk, early mornings, he pushes his face into your neck and fondles you awake, kneading your breasts in his hands. If he comes home in the middle of the day and you're not home yet, he waits for you like a pouty puppy and ambushes you the second you step through the door. You'd playfully swat at him, laughing breathlessly at his antics, until he'd have you partially undressed on the living room floor.

Being apart from you for more than 48 hours makes him restless. Another day or two, he experiences what can only be described as intense withdrawal symptoms; fidgeting, unbearable whining, inability to shut up about how awesome you are and how badly he misses you.

Tonight, he’s finally returning home from a mission that had him away for a few nights too many. Each day that had passed made missing you worse. The team may have gotten just a teensy bit annoyed with him about it.

(“Just rub one out like the rest of us!” Peacemaker barked.)

And it's like, dude, of course he already does that. But touching himself pales in comparison to having the taste of you on his skin. Something the group groaned at when he said something to that effect out loud.

What can Adrian say? Distance makes the cock grow harder. Or however that saying goes.

He spends the drive back home from base imagining all the things he likes to do to you, all the places he likes to taste you. Barely obeying the speed limit this close to midnight. He didn’t even change out of the suit, with the exception of flinging off his helmet and tossing it back in the bag.  

He gets to the apartment and sees the lights are still on. This is good. Despite how cute you look when you’re asleep, he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle the time needed to try to ease you awake.  

Adrian marches very purposefully into the living room, ripping his gloves off. His hands are already tingling from the anticipation of getting to touch you.

You're curled up on the couch, nose buried in a book, and he notices with absolute delight that you're wearing the itty bitty sleep shorts he likes so much. The one that both confuses him and turns him on, considering it’s made up of just the barest piece of fabric, and how much of your thighs it leaves exposed; you may as well be wearing nothing but underwear.

He's not one to complain about it, though. Especially when he gets a peek of the cheek meat that the shorts barely cover.

Your head had whipped up as soon as he entered the room. There's a flash of joyous surprise on your face. “Adrian!”

He gives you no time to scramble up and off the couch to greet him, however. Adrian drops to his knees in front of you after a few purposeful strides. He has his hands on your hips in no time, roughly dragging your ass to the edge of the cushion and towards his face.

You yelp at the sudden movement.

You squeak when he parts your legs a second after, and sinks his face against your thinly clothed cunt. He inhales, drinking in your scent, and lets out a shaky, relieved groan. Home, sweet home.

“Adrian..!” you squeak again. You tug at his curls, prompting him to meet your eyes. 

“Wha-?” He was already far too pussy-drunk for coherency. 

You grimace, dropping your hand from his hair. “It’s- That’s embarrassing. You putting your face…”

“Huh?” Adrian blinks. “Why? Is someone here?” He glances over your thighs, looking for an unexpected guest that he’d have to ask to leave. Or, fuck it, they could stay and watch as long as they didn’t interrupt. He just really needed to taste you, like, yesterday.

“No, no one's here. It's just... Very sudden. Wasn't ready for you to be all... down there.”

“Oh,” he says. “Well, if no one's here, can I please dive back into your pussy? I really missed you and it's been driving me crazy not getting to eat you out.”

You make a funny little sound, an exhale full of indescribable emotion before you nod, shy and excited and full of bubbly anticipation.

Adrian rolls your shorts down your hips, making sure to take your underwear with it as he slides them off your legs. Once they're blindly discarded somewhere behind him, his attention returns once more to your cunt, now bare for him to fully appraise and revel in.

“Wow,” he sighs. “I can never get over how pretty your pussy is.” His voice is full of unalloyed reverence. It makes you shiver, and quietly whimper. The sound goes right to his dick, makes it twitch in his pants, and it's all the push he needs to descend upon you with open-mouthed fervor.

The taste of you fills his tongue, the sharp tang that he missed so much. It coats his taste buds, makes him salivate as he licks a languid stripe up towards the bead of your clit. He moans. Like the generosity of his mouth is more for his pleasure than it is yours.

He can feel the effect it's having on you. The way you squirm in his hold. He's got your legs propped up on the shoulder pads of his suit, hands gripping the soft flesh of your waist to keep your cunt securely pressed against his face. He doesn't want you trying to scoot away like you do sometimes, when it gets too overwhelming.

Because Adrian is trying to feast.

He continues lapping at your heat, tongue being sure to slowly caress against the velvet folds of your pussy. Despite his rush to return home, Adrian takes his time. Now that he's here, cozied up between your legs, he really wants to savor the moment. Especially since you always taste better than he remembers.

He nuzzles closer, deeper into the heat of you. You full on tremble against him, sighing out his name. He missed that, too. The sound of your voice singing his name. No one's ever said his name the way you do — replete with praise and fondness.

Adrian. Typically said by others neutrally, devoid of any emotion. Affection. If there was an emotion, though, it's groaned out in exasperation, or spat out in annoyance, or confusion. Abrasive and lacking warmth.

It's something he got used to, of course. Until he reconnected with you. His name falling from your lips colored positively in amusement. Warm and tender emotions that made some feeling flicker in his chest when he heard it. Adrian. It made him ache. It was nice; it quickly became as addicting as your smiles.  

Adrian's tongue dips further into you, plunges into your hole, and he proceeds to slowly fuck you with it. He's rewarded by the breathy, high pitched moan that peels out of you.

Your quivering thighs finally clamp shut, trapping his head in paradise. Your hands go back to gripping the hair at the base of his skull -- a sting of pain shooting pleasurably down his spine -- and your hips attempting to meet each delectable thrust of his tongue until you're fully, impatiently, grinding against Adrian's face.

Fuck yes.

He loves when you try to use him. Loves when you get all filthy and unhinged for him, because of him. Just absolutely falling apart in his hands because he makes you feel good.

He used to think making random women get off as Vigilante was cool. But making you desperate as just Adrian Chase is top fucking tier. Nothing inflates his ego more. He feels like he’s on top of the world when you beg for him.

Adrian's tongue swirls in the divet of your sex as he nuzzles his face side-to-side. The tip of his nose catches at your sensitive clit with the movement, creating friction that thrums through you, makes you pant with desperation.

“Adrian..!” you keen. “P-please, I'm g-gonna..!”

His fingers dig into your skin. Bruising permission for you to let go, to come all over his face. His own breathing picks up, a rumbling groan encouraging you, vibrating against the damp folds of your pussy.

You come with a muted sob, hips undulating with each wave of your climax. Adrian drinks it up, keeping his face flush against the outpouring of your cunt. Laves at the dripping juices with a grateful hum until your body finally slumps back down into the couch. Your thighs ease their clutch from his ears, letting the sounds of the apartment whoosh back to life.

Adrian allows your legs to slide off his shoulders as he stands up. He looks down at you, taking in your heaving chest and the sheen of sweat dampening your hairline through the haze of his glasses, which he forgot to take off in his eagerness to consume you.

Fuck, you look pretty all spent like this. Eyes half-lidded and dazed, the post-coital glow of your cheeks.

“I think I'm addicted to your pussy,” he confesses through the mess of you that currently coats the bottom half of his face. Sloppy. He's only a messy eater when it comes to you.

You drag your gaze up to meet his eyes at his confession. Something saccharine gleams in your irises as your face breaks out into a syrupy smile.

Adrian remembers he likes the taste of that, too, and leans against the armrest of the couch so he can kiss you. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and then slips between your teeth to glide sensually over your own tongue. You sigh helplessly against the kiss when you taste yourself all over Adrian's mouth.

It's a slow and sloppy mishmash of mouths. Wet and sultry and sticky. It makes you horny again. Adrian can tell by the way your naked bottom half slowly gyrates forward, seeking friction. Your hands clasp shakily against his biceps, a quiet plea for more.

Which he's all too ready to give.

Still standing between your open legs, Adrian props a knee up on the cushion where your bare pussy is currently making a mess. Without looking, he traces the fingers of his right hand down until he’s rubbing messy circles onto your sensitive clit. Your hips jerk at the contact. Adrian swallows your whine.

He breaks from the kiss, leaving his forehead pressed to yours as his fingers continue their glide downwards, slipping easily into the welcoming heat of your sex.

“I thought about you every day,” Adrian says, voice ragged. “Do you know how hard it is to be away from you? Like, literally. I was literally hard for you the entire time.”

A laugh exhales out of you. You tilt your face up so you can catch his bottom lip between your teeth and pull, playful and needy. “I m-missed you, Chase,” you purr against his lips, clearly affected by his finger-fucking you. “You were gone so long I had to touch myself.”

The murmured admittance is both sweet and dirty and makes Adrian groan an expletive. His erection aches, and he can't do anything about it because one hand is propping himself up over you against the sofa while the other is busy trying to coax another orgasm from you.

As if reading his mind, your hands skirt down along the rough material of his suit, bumping over the hard piece of his utility belt before finally applying pressure against the stiffness of his pants. Even through the layers, the palm of your hand offers instant relief that he bucks into.

The thing is-  he's so pent up after going days without having you touch his dick. Sure, he touched his down dick, but obviously it's not the same. That sharp, exciting swoop that happens low in his gut doesn't occur when he's just trying to rub one out. Only you can do that. Which is pretty fucking romantic, he thinks.

And so, as you palm at his cock through his pants, he speeds up his ministrations on your soaking cunt, growing dizzy.

The world becomes nothing but the space you both take up on this single couch cushion, Adrian’s left hand gripping the back of the couch somewhere behind your head. Your right leg hooks around his hip, anchoring as you stroke him through his pants.

Shit, he's not gonna make it. His balls tighten just from your clumsy groping. Adrian drops his head into the crook of your neck and crooks his fingers deeper into you. He kisses the salt of your skin. Feels the walls of your pussy tighten around his pumping fingers, the erratic cant of your hips meeting each thrust.

Finally, you come around his fingers, back arching off the sofa. Something guttural rumbles out of him and into the space where your neck meets your shoulder as he follows suit, coming explosively in his pants. His cock twitches with each pulse against the heat of your touch, which continues to grip him through the fabric. 

Adrian collapses beside you on the couch once both your orgasms subside. Moments pass with nothing but the sound of both your labored breathing, only interrupted by a soft grunt as you yank the discarded book out from where it got trapped between your thigh and the armrest. 

“Did you,” you pant, “seriously just come without taking your suit off?”

Adrian pulls his glasses off his face, then lolls his head so he could look at you. “Yeah. You’re very good with your hands. The best in the world.”

You grin. “I barely did anything.”

Adrian’s uncomfortably sticky crotch says otherwise. He really, really missed you.

taglist: @whatevermonkey

[holyprncess]

brothel mix-up!

warnings: explicit, choking, hair pulling kinda, referred to the strap as her dick, sev slaps ur pussy and they are older than you

ambessa + sevika

after a long day of being slicos number two, all sevika wants to do to wind down is visit her favorite girl. the one she goes to nearly every day. imagine the anger she felt when she opens the door to only seeing you pressed down on the mattress, held in place by a tight grip on your neck while the noxian warlord rubs her cunt against yours, loud moans from your sweet lips and louder sounds from your sweeter pussy fill her room and her ears as her anger and confusion grows quick.

"are you fucking serious?"

all that clouds your mind when you recognize sevika at the door is embarrassment, confusion from the way ambessa and sevika somehow.. communicate things to each other with their eyes when they look at eachother. you feel shame. shame because you feel unloyal to sevika. you guys arent dating or anything. you agreed to keep it only as a sexual relationship. but sev's a regular. your first customer and your most frequent one. not many people book you, in concern for their physical health. your sev's girl. well that was until ambessa booked you.

now you watch as sev walks toward you and ambessa moves from between your legs letting sevika take her spot from between . you spread your legs wider, welcoming sevika's touch. your breath hitched when you see sevika tug her pants down and rub the tip of the strap-on on you, teasing your hole. the way she slid the strap into your slick cunt with a slow, steady motion. your body immediately tensing as the thick toy filled you whole, before ambessa taps your leg. reminding you to relax so you can accommodate it. "breathe pretty girl..." shes whispers in your ear when sevika starts to fuck into you deep letting your moans fill the air before sevika picked up the pace, her hips moving in a steady rhythm as she thrust the silicone mold deep into your pussy. the room is full of your screams, your walls clenching around the toy as you reveled in the sensation of being filled and stretched by her.

ambessa tangles her hand in your hair, pulling your head back to meet her longing gaze as your body rocks from the way sevika is ravaging your pussy. ambessa's sweet but condescending praises fill the air. "good girl.. taking sevika's cock so deep like that. was pretty slutty of you to try and two-time us both." she purrs in your ear, her thumb rubbing your cheek. she knows thats not true. and you weren't trying to do that. but your face when she said that was too good to pass up. she adjusts herself on the bed, her pussy above your slacked jaw. ambessa's toned physique settled onto your face, her soaked pussy smothering your mouth and nose. your muffled gasps and ambessa's gentle rocking motion as your tongue flicked in and out of her hole, licking and sucking at ambessa's wet cunt. sevika's hands hold your legs apart before fucking into you deeper, feeling the tip of sevikas plastic cock hit your cervix multiple times. letting the loudest noises out against ambessa's clit, the vibrations against her cunt collecting loud groans from the older woman. your noises were drowned out by ambessa pussy, but your body language spoke volumes - your hips began to buck, fingers grasping onto ambessa's thighs as sevika's strap-on rubbing against your walls stirred a fire within you. eating ambessa out with passion. desperate to please the older woman.

your tongue continued its relentless assault on ambessa's clit, sucking and licking the sensitive nub until you felt her body tensed and quivered. with a cry of pleasure, ambessa's wet heat clenched hard around your tongue as she came. her juices flooding your mouth. she moves off your mouth once she sees you swallowed all of her juice. she turned her head to watch as sevika continued to fuck her deep, the toy cock sliding in and out with practiced and familiar ease as ambessa brings her hand down to rub your clit too.

it's too much for you. the pleasure is too strong. your hand grab sevika's bicep and the other one tries to hold ambessas hand in place. trying to push her off.. but you don't actually want her to stop. your eyes locked onto sevika's, gaze pleading for more. and sevs eyes filled with complete lust. she clenched her muscles, ambessa's finger working on your sensitive nub is the end of how much you can take. when sevika brings her palm down quick on your cunt, you squirt alll on sevika's cock. collapsing in pleasure.

maybe next time they can both visit you again. together.

[sintiva]

ARMINEEEE pt.2

pt.1 of church boy! armin

his dick practically leaked between the soft pillows of your thighs. the fluffy, burgundy comforter disappeared under the tight clasp of his fingers. it felt like you’ve been milking him for hours ‘n hours but it’s only been ten minutes and he’s came…. one, tw-, three times! “y/nnn, i’m gunnu cum, ughh godddu… again —“ the poor things overstimulated himself to the point where he can’t stop, he doesn’t want to. and you’re not doing much, but the casual stroking and warmth of your body has him hooked in between your thighs. it’s comforting, exponentially better than anything he’s experienced.

when you told him he could touch you however he liked: the first thing he reached for were your cocoa scented thighs and how they rose ‘n fell with each curious imprint he placed upon them. they fluffed and molded under his hands like a pillow. hands down the softest things he’d ever felt. he groped you so eagerly, jaw wide and eyes quivering in awe of how you felt. “their not going anywhere, i promise.” intentions for him to relax only continued his exploration like he was starved. “so you really are a goody two shoes? i figured.”

“no-no, i-i’ve done this kinda thing b-before.” he blushes; bound by his own lies you giggle and he feels his face grow hotter, embarrasment like this hasn’t coursed through his bones since the day his parents took his door “you’re lying to me? that’s no good armin, remember?” your fingers caress his face; he’s hot to the touch. “i-i have!” he’s beyond flustered at this point. he grabs onto your wrist and flashes those pretty, pleading, wet eyes, begging for you to stop teasing him so much. with each passing second they grew wetter just like his… yeah. “you just wasting your time at church huh?”

“so as i was saying…you haven’t there’s no need to lie to me, besides—” you straddle his lap, and he sinks further into the bed, his eyes widen in shock. “you’re getting this excited, wanna put it in me that bad? you wanna fill me up this bad thinkin’ about it?” armin swallows back a moan and bites down hard on his lips; flush from sheer force. you feel his thighs tremble and his grip on your skirt tighten, “why are you getting all wet, min?” your brown eyes flutter one too many times, and his heart sinks into his chest. all the breath in his lungs fans out between his lips. is he being ostracized he can’t tell, but when you glance down at him with that look… as you’re dragging your hips harder along the prominent tent in his pants, you’re making him moan so much louder, “didn’t mean to, i didn’t.” he whines and bucks up into you. this long into the night and he’s writhing,, sniffling uncontrollably and babbling on about how good you’re making him feel. “but i didn’t say you could cum, you have to control yourself armin.”

ouch:( it felt like you were upset with him-well, that came a little too late… and he came bit too early. those super ugly khakis that he wore every wednesday for bible study grew warm and wet right under where you sat. soothing, unpleasant, but more of the former, considering its spread. hot, scorching your skin, blue like the hottest flame—spreading in your stomach. you can’t blame him, you’ve been searching for something like this for a while. “didn’t your mama tell you good boys don’t make messes?” bite. this far into the night your skirts bunched up around your waist, and armin’s losing his mind. he’s tried so hard to apologize for enjoying all this — you letting him do everything he pleases. the same excuse tumbles between his lips, in that sime high pitched whiny voice while a deeper flare of red painted his skin. curiosity settles in your stomach, to think he’s acting like this — and it’s not even sex.

“i’ve….oh’y god - never felt anything like…this — like you—” you can hear the nervousness in his voice, see it in his face. avoiding, your gaze, his eyes shift back and fourth, uncertain of where he can look that won’t expose his innocence. that won’t expose how abundant his joy is. the delicacy in his voice, the slight tremble and strain in it. can’t you tell he’s working so hard to keep it in? but when you grind down so hard on his hips. bend forward to bite down on his lips, and lick them to lighten the sting, he’s cracking bit by bit. he can physically feel every part of his body throbbing and how his lust for you overflows. while your thighs envelop his length, working so hard to squeeze out every drip of cum. his chest falls and that high piles up on him, higher and higher, till it comes crashing down and he’s pumping out another sticky load.

“what are you blaming me for, you’re the one whose fuckin my thighs outta control like a pup.” his moves are sloppy, out of time, uncontrollable. “‘s too much.” bubbles out. his eyes roll to the back of his head, his fingers clamp down onto your thighs. “you don’t wanna keep using me ‘til you’re satisfied?” the hint of sadness embedded into your question deepens his feralness. it hurts so much to keep going; to keep getting consumed by your offers of induction. the ‘keep goings’ and ‘don’t stop, i want you to make yourself feel so good baby’.

“you’ve been hidin’ this big ole thing from me ‘cause of your dumb parents. you’re so mean armin.” words mean everything to this boy. there’s power in every syllable you cast from your mouth. they tug on his resolve, gratifying every action he’s taking. cursing his subordination, his inability to have something like this all the time. his parents fought so hard to “protect” him from all this corruption because, “that girl will land you in trouble, can’t you see we’re trying to do what’s best for you? as your parents? it’s like you don’t care about how you’ll end up, how that reflects on us…”

your words sound better, they don’t sound like you’re degrading him to make yourself feel better. affirmations encouraging all those uncertainties his parents made sure he’d be too inept to act upon. outlining all of his priorities: all the things he could and couldn’t do. truthfully he was tired of it, so letting you have your way with him; in his parents word “corrupting” him felt liberating. this newfound freedom, that his parents warned would leave a stain, felt otherworldly.

“minnn, i want you to put it inside me.” you lift up your legs by the underside of your knees. taken aback, he groans as you fall back onto the bed, thighs spread; your cream white panties were eaten up up by your pussy lips. you pull them to the side, innocently inviting him in. smearing all your mess over your pussy lips then spreading them to reveal your puffy clit. “if you put it inside it’ll feel good.” and he takes the bait. he crawls forward, and his cock twitches. outstretched, nervous; one hand takes place on your knees and the others follows in spreading the pretty girl’s legs who lay in his parents bed with arousal leaking between her ass cheeks. “wanna let you feel something better.”

"i'll teach you how to use it, but it can only be mine, k? he looks so cute and your hearts skipping beats, it's getting so loud that you can barely hear. but as he gets closer to you and begins to line it up, asking questions to make sure what he's doing is okay you hear something. "wait!" your stomach drops and your legs do the same, armin fusses so you plave your fingers against his lips. "there it is." it's faint but you can make out that sound, the eerie beeping of a key pad. the distant notification rings through the house, chime! — disarmed, ready to arm— muffled voices, keys, shoes removed, voices growing louder, creaky floor boards. "you're fucking parents."

the two of you jump up. "fuck, fuck, fuck. armin! you said they weren't coming back til tomorrow! why are they here?" the bed was a fucking mess and armin was frozen while you collected yourself. "i-i don't know." tears stream down his cheeks and he starts to panic, the realization kicks in and he's sobbing. the only thing running through his mind is punishment if his parents catch him, when they catch him and you. the girl, the only girl they've warned him about, together in their room. "they're gonna kill me and i'm never gonna see you again and they're gonna ship me away —you're gonna forget about me an-"

"armin, if you don't stop all that bull shit and listen to me." as you readjust your skirt, you instruct him on what to do in this situation. it hasn't been your first, but you're to old to be worrying about getting caught fucking by old hags "got it?" he's already started pulling the sheets off the bed, you duck into his room tossing things everywhere; pulling drawers open and scattering papers on the floor. he runs the sheets to the laundry and tosses the comforter in first as it was the scene of his crime. the sheets could wait. you dig through some of his drawers, adding to the mess; looking for nothing causing a distraction for him. you pop his window open, the alarm chimes and that tells him he needs to be in his room. it gives you time to hop out while his parents find there way to the back if the house yelling his name, but he'll get there first in enough time to...

"armin robert arlert, you better have good reason for opening your window this late at night, so help me god, before i bolt tha-" his mom's eyes twitch. the back of the house is a complete mess, and armin's jamming to the music filtered through his earbuds as he cleans your mess; the cool breeze of the night sweeping through his room. he's stripped to clean boxers and a white tank top. "what is this?" she wails, hysterical and bitchy as always. "just cleaning, my rooms a mess, ma."

"well fix it. quickly. and my sheets, i didn't tell you to take them off. but thank you." she huffs the last part out, turning on her heel stomping down the hall back to his father.

holy shit. under his breath a sigh that releases all the fear accumulated within the last 5 minutes. we pulled it off. it's hard to hear him, but the earbuds pick up enough his voice for you to decipher the static.

"i told you we would… robert."

"you're a fucking genius, but don't ever call me that again."

"you've got a filfthy mouth, maybe i should've let your momma see how her beloved robert gets down." he smacks his lips and yells a good night, embarrassed again. "who are you talking to?"

[emilys-bangs]

helping hand | e.p

Tags: non bau reader, fluff, established relationship, use of petnames, no use of yn, clingy emily

Summary: anon prompt - emily comes home to her appartement after long and tiring few days away, knowing that she didn’t do the dishes and her entire flat is a mess and she needs to do the laundry and vacuum etc - only to discover that reader cleaned up everything for her and it’s super tidy and she’s just very grateful and sappy about it

Word count: 1.2k

Usually, Emily didn’t feel anything but a deep seated relief at coming home after a long case. Home is her empty shell of an apartment, void of people or laughter or warmth. It’s just a place to rest her weary bones, recharge until the next case pulls her away from her comfortable bed.

Now, she doesn’t even feel relieved to be home. That feeling is chased away as soon as she parks her car, remembers the mess that she had left behind just before Hotch called. It was barely a day after another case that had swept them away for a week; Emily barely had time to dump the dirty clothes out of her go bag and pack clean ones in before she left her apartment, dishes still lying at the bottom of the sink, dust building up around the edges of her carpet. Now she gets out of the car, hitching her bag over her shoulder and allowing herself to sulk as she enters the elevator, punching the buttons in none too gently, preemptively scowling at the mess that will greet her the moment she opens the door.

Only when she fits her key in the lock and walks in, she doesn’t find any of what she remembered.

It’s not dark anymore. Warm light gently blankets her apartment, soft gold coming from the lamps in the living room rather than the overhead lighting. Her plate and mug—which she’d definitely left there in her haste—are cleared off the coffee table, her fuzzy blanket that she’d left in a pile among the cushions now neatly folded over the arm of the couch. Emily quietly steps inside, her lips parted as she takes in the faint scent of food in the air, the low sound of your humming floating in from the kitchen. She closes the door behind her and drops her bag on the floor, a steady lump growing in her throat as she follows your voice.

Emily’s eyes jump over her apartment. She notes the clean, shiny floors; her impressive bookshelf, its dark wood wiped clean of the fine layer of dust that had clung to it for ages. Warmth spreads through her chest, heating up the cold in her fingertips as she quietly steps into the kitchen and finds you there, bent over the stovetop.

“Hi,” she says softly. Her voice is rough around the edges, an almost imperceptible hoarseness to it as it scrapes against the back of her throat.

“Emily!” You jump. The wooden spoon in your hand drops against the side of the pot with a small clatter, and even though she scared you, she has to bite back a smile.

“Sorry,” she breathes, taking your hands and tugging you to her until her head is under your chin. Her arms wrap around your body, yours around hers, and she finally relaxes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” Her words are muffled in a soft kiss to your throat.

“It’s okay,” you exhale, running gentle fingers through her hair. 

Emily melts into you. She literally melts, her body sagging against yours, her ear molded to your chest where she hears the fast beat of your heart. The tension leaks from her shoulders as you press a kiss to her hair, gently dragging your nails over her scalp. There’s so many words she wants to say; thank you, I missed you, I love you. Sorry, again, because your heart rate still hasn’t gone down yet.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she whispers instead. Her fingers twist in your shirt as she nuzzles under your jaw, closing her eyes and breathing in the comforting scent of your perfume.

You go a little tense. “I’m sorry I didn’t call beforehand. You sounded tired when you called and I wanted to make sure you had something to eat before you went to bed, but I should’ve asked first, sorr—”

“I don’t mind.” Emily’s head snaps up from its hiding place. It should be strange, feeling this way. She’d always cherished her privacy more than anything, viscerally hated the feeling of being exposed, picked apart for anyone to see. Hiding parts of herself had become habit, one she still hasn’t fully broken. 

The thought of you going into her apartment in her absence should’ve made her skin crawl. But the truth is, you taking the key she’d given you and letting yourself into her home makes her feel like she’s part of something. Part of something good. 

Emily cups your face. “I don’t mind at all. I fucking love you.” Her voice weakens and she brings you impossibly closer, her thumbs gentle on your cheeks. “You made me dinner. You…you cleaned up.” 

You took care of her. No one really has before.

She can feel her eyes growing glassy, can see your expression morphing into concern. Emily blinks back her tears and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Thank you, amor. This means…a lot.” Her next breath is a little shaky, but she tries to hide it into another gentle kiss.

“Emily,” you say, your voice hushed and faintly chiding. You wrap your arms around her shoulders, firmly bringing her into your chest. It’s home, she thinks, more than this empty apartment ever was. “Honey, you don’t have to thank me. For anything. I wanted to, and I’d do it again.” The soft press of your lips against her temple makes her close her eyes. 

By this point you’re almost entirely holding her upright. The rumble of your voice reverberates through your body and through her skin, sinking into her bones as you kiss the top of her head again. “You’re my girlfriend, you know,” you say quietly, tickling her bangs when you speak, “gotta take care of you.” The pad of your thumb gently presses into the back of her neck. She’s so, so warm, your love rushing through her veins in liquid gold that makes her sigh and nuzzle deeper into your embrace. 

“Love you,” Emily mumbles.

“I love you, sweetheart. C’mon now, you must be starving.” Gently, you pull back, trying to detangle yourself from her unwilling arms.

She blinks at you with pleading eyes. “Will you stay over tonight?” Her voice is soft as she squeezes your waist, needing to maintain the contact even though she knows you’ll need to pull away.

You smile, gently brushing her bangs over her brows. “I’d love to.”

The prospect makes it easier for her to let go of you. “But you won’t have any of my shirts to wear, they’re all dirty.” Emily wrinkles her nose, her mind skipping to the overflowing laundry baskets she’d left behind.

“Oh,” you clear your throat delicately, a shyness to your expression that makes her heart clench. “You don’t have to worry about that, I did the laundry.”

Emily sighs, physically feeling herself fall deeper. “You what?” She whispers.

You shrug, your voice coming out in a mumble. “I did the laundry. Did separate loads for whites and colors ’cause I didn’t know how you usually do it and I didn’t wanna mess anything up—”

Emily shuts you up with a kiss. A long one, a very thorough thank you as she carefully cups your jaw in the heel of her hand, skims her thumb over your cheek as if you’re something precious. What’s left of her bad mood slips off her shoulders like droplets of water, the sweetness of your lips soothing what tightness was residing in her chest.

“You’re magic.” Emily says when she leans back.

You’re too flustered to reply.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @ashluvescaterina @storiesofsvu

[whispersoftheton]

hey! may I request some wedding day fluff/smut?? 🤭

HI MY LOVE <3 Thank you so so much for requesting & I apologize for taking so long with this one but I hope you like it!

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut: oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering

Word Count: 763

Wisteria and Lilacs adorned the entryways and every staircase of Aubrey Hall. Where guests once overflowed the corridors with endless drinks and food, now silence in its place. The positively exquisite wedding dress from the modiste was now replaced with a delicate nightgown tailored to perfection. Stars adorned the night sky, each twinkle gleaming down upon the balcony of the lavish home. Tranquility became you as you overlooked the gardens just outside your bedroom. The joyous celebration that was your wedding day may have come to an end, but the night brought an entirely new thrill. Distant footsteps echoed in the room, returning you to reality and away from your train of thought as your husband approached from behind you. Firm hands anchored at the base of your hips, making you instinctively lean back onto his chest. He kissed your shoulder and the tender skin of your neck, lulling you deeper into his embrace.

"Mhm." Anthony sighed while tracing your bare skin with his fingertips. "Now, just how did I get so lucky?" A grin spreads on your face, goosebumps rising with every pass of his touch as you turn around in his hold. His lips instantly molded to yours, moving in sync with one another, the hunger and anticipation growing with every swipe of his tongue. Anthony's grip tightened, pulling you flush against his body until there was not an ounce of space between you. His mouth worked its way from your lips and along your neckline, paving the way toward your chest. Taking his time to taste every inch of you he could. Anthony wasted no time in tearing down your nightgown to reveal yourself to him and teasing a nipple with his tongue, then moving to the other. Every movement was as if he was taking his time to worship your body. Your eyes screwed shut, and your head tilted back, giving him more access before you felt his lips leave you entirely. Your skin grew cold without the warmth of his lips as your eyes widened at the sight before you. Anthony was already on his knees, his hands feverishly lifting your nightgown, your delicate lace underwear already soaked, driving him mad with want.

"Anthony, please. I want you." You attempted to draw him back up to your lips, but it was of no use. His gaze darkened as it set on your core.

"And you'll have me. But I must taste you first." He began removing the remaining barriers of clothing. Now bare before him, Anthony hooked one of your legs around his shoulder and caressed your inner thighs. His eager tongue traced your slit, making you arch your back toward him. It wasn't long before his fingers dug into the outer flesh of your thighs as he devoured you like a man starved. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he took your clit into the warmth of his mouth while teasing you with his tongue. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs. Your breath caught when Anthony plunged one of his fingers into your dripping core. Never pulling his lips away, he added a second and eventually a third finger, stretching you further, curling them inside you. Anthony was insatiable, consuming you as if you were his last meal on earth. Your eyes filled with tears, struggling to hold back the lewd moans threatening to escape you as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer, your hands tangled in his hair as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your hips bucked, and moans echoed off the empty hallways, shuddering under him as your vision went white from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. Anthony drank up every bit you were willing to give him as he worked you through your orgasm. Reveling in your pleasure as if it was his own before rising back to his feet.

"Now." You were pliant in his arms as he accentuated every word with a kiss on your neck. "I plan to have pleasure overtake you at least twice more before I can properly have you. I simply cannot have my wife anything less than satisfied on our wedding night."

"I assure you I am more than satisfied." Your breathy reply and blissed-out look were more than enough to bring a cocky smirk to his handsome face.

"We have a long night ahead of us, my love." Anthony took your hand and led you into the bedroom of the main hallways, with your laughter filling the air between you.

Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added.removed)

I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (full-blown unprotected p in v - wrap it, folks!)

Part 02

Series Masterlist

Lock Me Down Tonight

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

For most people, Fridays held a special charm and anticipation. They symbolized the end of the toil of work, a well-earned break, and a chance to spend quality time with loved ones.

For you… it signified when you’d finally get to fuck Hugh. The mere thought of it was enough to send a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Fridays meant that you’d finally get to be with him again, to feel the heat of his body against yours and the weight of his desire as he took you to heights of pleasure you’d never known before.

The excitement was overwhelming, to the point where you found it difficult to focus on anything else. Time seemed to drag slowly, each minute an eternity as you ached for the moment when you could finally be reunited with Hugh.

You tried to distract yourself by going about your daily routine, but it was a struggle. Your thoughts kept Returning to the memory of his touch, his smile, the way he looked at you with barely contained desire.

You stare at the two outfits laid out on the bed, each one alluring in its own way. The first is a sexy little number, the kind of outfit that would make Hugh's eyes widen in appreciation. The second is a more elegant and refined option, a choice that would have him imagining you on his arm instead of in his bed.

You hum quietly to yourself, trying to decide which outfit would best convey the perfect balance between allure and restraint. You didn't want to be too obvious, but....

You were also eager to show him just how much you desired him. It was a delicate line to walk, and you wanted to make sure you got it just right. The thought has you biting your lip, the sense of anticipation growing with each passing moment. You reach for the phone and dial Megan’s number, waiting for her to answer.

You see Megan’s face appear on the screen, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She takes in your appearance and the outfits laid out on the bed behind you, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. Out of everyone in your life, Megan was the only one to know of your situation with Hugh. She was your walking phone and calendar. She knew things before you did! “Is the black too much?” You ask nibbling on your manicured nails.

Megan looks at the black outfit, her eyes trailing over the delicate lace and the plunging neckline. “Not at all,” she replies, her tone knowing. “Hugh won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You feel confident in the choice. “Black it is then.” Megan smiles, pleased that you’ve made a decision. "You’re going to knock him dead, I promise." You check yourself in the mirror, studying every angle and curve. The black outfit fits like a second skin, hugging your body in all the right places.

You glance down at your feet, admiring the tall black heels you've chosen. They elongate your legs, adding a touch of elegance to your outfit. You slide on the sheer black tights, the silky material molding to your skin seamlessly.

Looking in the mirror, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The black outfit accentuates your curves and makes you feel sexy and confident.

As the last hour crawls by, you find yourself pacing around your room, unable to sit still. Your mind is filled with anticipation, and your heart beats a little faster with every minute that passes.

You glance at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. It feels like an eternity before it’s finally time to leave. Your heart skips a beat as you see Hugh's name flash on your phone screen. You quickly answer the call, your voice a mixture of excitement and nerves. “Hey, I was just about to head over.”

Hugh’s voice comes through the line, deep and velvety. You can hear a hint of excitement in his tone, mirroring your own. "I can't wait to see you,” he says, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been thinking about you all day."

“You’re not alone there.” You muse into the phone. “You haven’t gotten into your car yet have you?” Hugh asks.

You smile at Hugh's question, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "No, not yet. Why?" you reply, curious about what he has in mind.

You pause, your eyes going wide as you gaze at the black limousine waiting in the parking garage. A thrill of excitement courses through you, your heart fluttering at the sight. You step closer to the car, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filling you as you wonder what Hugh has planned for tonight.

“Because I figured I would have you dropped off.”

You feel a smile spread across your face as his words sink in. "Hugh, you didn’t have to do this," you say, both touched and excited by his extravagant gesture. You approach the limousine, your heels clicking against the pavement. The driver, standing beside the rear passenger door, gives you a nod as he opens the door for you.

“Well I told you I would give you everything you deserve, didn’t I?” A shiver runs down your spine as his words reach your ears. They're equal parts sweet and seductive, a potent combination that always makes your head spin.

"You did say that," you murmur, a hint of desire lacing your voice. You slide into the luxurious car, the leather seats offering comfort and indulgence. The door closes quietly behind you, encasing you in a bubble of privacy and luxury.

As the limousine glides through the streets, you take in the plush interior, the dim lighting creating an intimate ambiance. The city lights pass by outside the tinted windows, adding to the sense of mystery and excitement. You bring the phone back to your ear, the sound of Hugh's voice a balm to your senses. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

You watch the city pass by through the tinted windows, your mind filled with images of Hugh: his magnetic gaze, his charming smile, his muscular frame. You're about to see him again, to feel his touch and taste his kiss. The thought alone is enough to make your heart pound faster and your breathing shallow.

The limousine pulls into the parking garage of Hugh's luxurious complex, the silence punctuated by the smooth hum of the engine. The garage is quiet and dimly lit, and you feel a wave of excitement wash over you as you prepare to finally be reunited with Hugh. The limousine glides effortlessly into a reserved spot, coming to a stop as the driver gets out to open your door.

A strong, protective hand extended from outside, reaching out to you. Without a moment’s hesitation, you take it, and a sense of security washes over you as Hugh gently guides you out. His fingers splay over your waist, providing a strong yet tender anchor point as he helps you take that first step.

The feel of Hugh's hand on your waist is electric, his touch sending sparks of desire through your body. You draw in a sharp breath, your heart rate quickening as you take a moment to steady yourself.

The contact is subtle yet possessive, his fingers exerting gentle yet firm pressure on your hip. The subtle gesture betrays just how badly he wants you, his restraint barely hiding the desire that simmers just beneath the surface.

His lips meet yours, and a wave of tenderness washes over you. His kiss is gentle yet intense, a subtle declaration of his desire and his feelings for you. It's a moment that feels both comforting and exhilarating, the sweetness of the gesture only fueling the fire within you.

As the kiss lingers, his fingers dig into your hips, his touch growing more possessive. It's a silent message – a reminder that no matter how gentle his touch is, the desire that burns within him is barely contained.

Hugh guides you through the complex, his hand still resting possessively on your hip. There's a moment of silence as you reach the private elevator that leads to Hugh's penthouse. With a simple touch of a button, the elevator doors slide open, and Hugh gestures for you to precede him inside.

As you step into the elevator, the cool air conditioning sends a subtle shiver through you. The space is small, intimate, just the two of you.

Hugh steps in behind you, his presence is overwhelming and all-consuming. The doors slide shut, enclosing you both in the small space. The silence is intense, the air between you charged with tension and expectation.

Hugh's gaze rakes over you, his eyes darkened with desire. The black dress he'd seen earlier now looks even more tantalizing on you, the fabric hugging your curves in all the right places.

His eyes linger on the way the dress clings to your body, the way it exposes just a hint of cleavage, the way it accentuates your shape. It's clear that you're having a profound effect on him, stirring up deep and primal desires that he's barely able to contain.

"You look absolutely stunning," Hugh murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "That dress...it's driving me crazy." His eyes rake over your body again, taking in every detail. He reaches out, the palms of his hands skimming up your sides, his touch burning through the fabric.

You bite your lip as you lean into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, I hope you’re ready for me to take it off.”

A low growl rumbles in Hugh's chest as you press your body against him. Your words only stoke the fire that's already burning within him. He slides his hands down to the curves of your hips, firmly gripping you against him.

As you enter the penthouse, you're immediately struck by the grandiosity of the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the city skyline, the night sky lit up with a dazzling array of lights.

The penthouse is tastefully furnished, with a modern, masculine aesthetic that reflects Hugh's personality. The living room features comfortable couches, a sleek wall-mounted television, and a piano tucked into a corner.

The layout is open and inviting, the space designed for both style and functionality. As you walk further inside, the faint scent of his cologne fills your nose, lingering subtly in the air.

Hugh heads over to the kitchen, where a dinner table is already set up for two. Dishes and silverware are arranged neatly, the flickering glow of lit candles casting a soft, intimate light over the table.

As you arrive at the dining table, Hugh pulls out a chair for you, his gallant demeanor making your heart flutter. His hand holds the back of the chair as you seat yourself, his polite gesture a mixture of chivalry and possessiveness.

Hugh takes his own seat at the table, his eyes never leaving you. The candlelight flickers in his eyes, making the desire there even more apparent.

This was something you’d never experienced before. Sure you’d gone on plenty of dates. The same old dinner, movie, make-out routine is old and worn out.

Hugh was showing you the finer things of life. The more intimate experiences you could have with him. And you were loving every moment of it.

Hugh pours you a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling elegantly in the crystal glass. He then pours one for himself and sets the bottle down on the table.

As you take a sip of the wine, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement. Hugh's attention is entirely focused on you, his eyes drinking in every movement, every expression. The intimate setting, the delicious food, and the flickering candlelight all combine to create a sensual atmosphere that's both romantic and erotic.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you smirk at him. “Never been treated like this before. You’ve got me feeling special, Hugh.” Hugh chuckles a low, sexy sound that makes you shiver. He grins, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"You're damn right you're special," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "You deserve to be treated like royalty, and I'm going to make sure you feel like it every goddamn day."

Hugh’s masculine hand covers yours, his touch strong and warm, the contact between you sparks a wave of electricity. His voice quiets, taking on a more serious, sincere tone as he gazes into your eyes.

"Tonight, you’re the center of my world," Hugh reiterates, his words a soft yet intense declaration of his feelings. "I want this night to be an unforgettable one. I want to show you just how much you mean to me."

Hugh ladles out dinner, the mouthwatering aroma of the meal drifting up towards you. The candlelight casts a warm, flickering glow over the table, creating an intimate and romantic atmosphere.

He serves you first, placing a plate loaded with a variety of mouthwatering dishes in front of you. The food looks and smells incredible, and you can tell it's been prepared with meticulous care.

“You made this?” You ask in amazement. Hugh nods, a proud smile spreading across his face. "Every last bit," he says, clearly pleased with himself. "I wanted tonight to be perfect."

You take a bite, savoring the flavors that explode on your tongue. It's delicious, the combination of spices and herbs perfectly balanced. Hugh watches you intently, his eyes fixed on your face, eager for your reaction.

“I might just let you lock me down tonight, Hugh.” You tease him. He was all around the perfect man. Hugh raises an eyebrow, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, is that a promise?" he replies, his voice laced with a hint of challenge. "You think I can convince you to stay the night?"

As the meal progresses, the conversation between you and Hugh continues, flowing effortlessly and comfortably. The topics range from lighthearted and playful to more serious and intimate, touching on your childhoods, dreams, and aspirations. The candlelight flickers, the soft glow creating a warm, intimate atmosphere.

Hugh listens intently, his eyes locked on you, hanging onto every word. Occasionally, he offers a gentle touch – a hand on yours, a brush of his fingertips against your skin – small gestures that speak volumes about his admiration for you.

He takes a sip of his wine, then leans in slightly, his gaze fixed on you. "So tell me about your album," he prompts. "How long have you been working on it? What's the inspiration behind it?"

You sip your wine thinking over the album. “Almost two years.” Hugh's eyebrows raise in surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the revelation. "Two years?" he repeats, a hint of admiration in his voice. "That's a long time. I can only imagine how much effort and passion you've poured into it."

You have to roll your eyes at the thought. “I dated this Shawn guy. A complete dumbass. Some of the songs are about him. How he fucked me over.” As you mention your ex, a flicker of anger flashes across Hugh's face. His jaw clenches, and his eyes darken with possessive jealousy.

But he quickly tamps down the emotion, replacing it with a more sympathetic expression. "Sounds like he was a real piece of work," he mutters, his voice tight with resentment at the thought of someone treating you poorly.

You trail your gaze to meet Hugh’s. “Then the other songs are about you.” Hugh's expression suddenly shifts as he processes your words. His eyes soften, and the possessive edge to his demeanor recedes, replaced by something softer, warmer.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he absorbs the meaning behind your words. "About me?" he asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and curiosity. "You wrote songs about me?" You smirk, “I might’ve.”

Hugh's grin widens at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of pride. "Now I'm dying to know what you wrote about me. Are they good songs, or am I gonna come off looking like a fool?" You toy with his fingers, as you rake your gaze up his face. “Just don’t embarrass me, motherfucker.”

Hugh's fingers intertwine with yours, his larger hand completely dwarfing yours. He laughs at your playful threat, the sound deep and rich. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," he replies, his voice low and sultry. "I'm a man of many talents, but I'm not in the habit of embarrassing gorgeous women. You're safe with me."

He brings your entwined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. The gesture is intimate and tender, his touch sending a shiver through you. He holds your gaze as he plants another soft kiss on your knuckles, his eyes smoldering with desire.

"Now, about those songs..." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You gonna give me a preview, or do I have to wait until I can buy your album?" You smirk widely as you stand. You sway over to his seat. “I guess I can give you just a little sneak peek.”

Hugh's eyes follow your every movement. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, his gaze roaming over your figure appreciatively. He's clearly enjoying the view, a predatory look in his eyes.

"A sneak peak, huh?" he says, his voice rough. "I like the sound of that." He reaches out, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You settle onto Hugh's lap, your body pressing snugly against his. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, holding you in place as he looks up at you. The height difference emphasizes his masculinity, his broad shoulders and muscular frame dwarfing you as you straddle him.

With the meal now finished, you lean back against Hugh, a soft hum of satisfaction slipping past your lips. "Dinner's done," you murmur, a hint of contentedness in your voice.

Hugh’s hands remain fixed on your hips, his fingers gently kneading the supple flesh. He gazes up at you, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently reinforces his promise for the night. Without a word, Hugh easily lifts you up in his arms, the strength in his muscles making it look effortless. He carries you to the bedroom, his steps steady and purposeful.

Gently, he laid you down on the soft bed, his strong hands caressing your body, exploring every curve with reverence. He traced the outline of your face, his fingers brushing your lips, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. You arched your back, inviting him to continue his exploration.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. "So young and full of life. I want to worship every inch of you." His lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that took your breath away. His tongue danced with yours, a sensual battle for dominance that left you yearning for more. Hugh's hands roamed freely, moving the straps of your dress down, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples until they hardened under his touch.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Hugh's kisses trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fiery desire, before he gently bit your sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. "I need to taste you again, baby," he whispered against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

With skilled fingers, he dragged your tights down your legs, kissing every inch of bare skin as it revealed itself. His hands deftly removed your clothing, exposing your naked body to his hungry gaze.

"You're exquisite," he breathed, his eyes dark with desire. Hugh's lips trailed down your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites, until he reached the edge of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the lace and slowly slid them down your legs, his breath hot on your sensitive skin.

You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet incredibly aroused. Hugh's tongue traced the outline of your pussy. You gasped, your body arching off the bed, as he finally took the first stride of his tongue.

His tongue delved deep into your wetness, exploring every fold and crevice. He lapped at your juices, his mouth hot and insistent, driving you wild with pleasure. You clutched the sheets, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, Hugh," you cried out, your voice hoarse with need. "I'm going to cum!" He increased his pace, his tongue flicking relentlessly against your clit, sending you spiraling into a mind-shattering orgasm. Your body shook uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Hugh continued to feast on your pussy, lapping up your essence, prolonging your ecstasy. As your orgasm subsided, Hugh slowly made his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites. He looked into your eyes, his own desire burning fiercely.

"I want to be inside you," he growled, his voice thick with want. "I want to feel your tight pussy around my cock." You reached down, grasping his hard length through his pants, and stroked him slowly, feeling his thickness and warmth. With trembling fingers, you unbuckled his belt, desperate to free his straining erection.

Hugh's cock sprang free, thick and veined, standing proudly before you. You stroked him gently, marveling at his size and the way his breath caught as you touched him. "Please, Hugh," you begged, your voice husky.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his cock teasing your wet entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, stretching you deliciously. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

Hugh began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending pleasure coursing through your body. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips. "You feel so good," he groaned between kisses. "So tight and wet. I can't get enough of you."

He picked up the pace, his cock slamming into you with increasing urgency. The bed creaked with each powerful thrust, and your moans filled the room, a symphony of pure pleasure. Hugh's hands gripped your hips, guiding you to meet his every stroke, driving you both towards the brink of ecstasy.

"I'm close," you whispered, your nails digging into his back. He growled in response, his body tensing as he reached his peak. With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within you, filling you with his hot cum. You clenched around him, milking his throbbing cock, as your own orgasm exploded, rippling through your body.

In that moment, the age difference faded away, leaving only the raw, primal connection between two lovers lost in the throes of passion. As their breathing slowed, Hugh collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"That was incredible," he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. Hugh pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around you possessively. “Convinced to stay the night yet?” You giggle and settle into his grasp. “You’ve got me, Hugh.” Your words meant more than just the confirmation of your bed sharing for the night. Hugh had you completely. If he wanted.

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a blissful haze of erotic fulfillment and tender affection.

[lightwing-s]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

It was like the entire room shook with every step he took, his combat boots sending tremors through the floor. A proper man-made earthquake. With his stature, he towered over everybody. His presence was intense, and you could feel him coming even before hearing or seeing him, your head snapping to the entrance of the room to watch the scene attentively.

Wearing his skull balaclava, the Lieutenant returned from his practice alongside Sargeant MacTavish. You watched his chest shaking as he walked, the muscle jumping up and down like a juicy pornstar’s boobs would do, highlighted by the compression shirt he wore sticking to his skin. His sweat left it soaked, making the fabric slightly see through and his nipples easily visible. 

Swallowing deep, you felt your mouth go dry as his intoxicating smell of sweat, smoke and gunpowder filled the air. You were certain you must have looked dumb in front of all the other soldiers, eyeing your Lieutenant up and down. A tingling sensation growing on your cunt as he side-eyed you when he passed your smaller frame.

Fuck me, you wished, watching on as he started to disappear into another room. You were a sinner, of that you were sure, because nothing else could justify such a harsh punishment. Seeing Lt. Ghost Riley in person every single fucking day and all you could ever do was stare. You felt like Dionysius without his wine, or Snoop without his weed. Deprived, dismantled, deranged.

And he wore spandex today. Fucking spandex. Molding his ass and his muscular thighs perfectly, not to mention how much it emphasized the bulge on his groin, as if he knew very well the effect his choice of clothing had on you.

Fuck you, Simon. Fuck you. Fuck me.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around and returned, or attempted to at least, to your exercise. Every movement filled with days of build up frustration. Your arousal, hopefully not evident through your leggings, made its way to your nose, and you rolled your eyes out, exasperated to leave the training room.

Turning a corner, deep into whatever side of the base you stood, you found a darkened alley leading to a dead end. It was quiet, far for anyone. Resting against the wall, you let your mind wonder, thoughts of your Lieutenant crowding your head.

Your breathing was uneven, rushed, but your walk over there wasn’t what caused it. Your core ached, burned, begged for attention. Peeking briefly at your sides, you did something unthinkable, something your shame shouldn’t have allowed you to do. Putting a hand inside your leggings, you touched your aching clit, circular movements dragging soft moans out of your pursed lips.

Enjoying the sensation, the quick relief brought to you by your own fingers, you increased their speed, wanting to reach that so desirable end, the increased sensation making it harder to hold your moans down as you desperately bit your lips to stop them from coming out. 

Your mind darkened as the pleasure spread to different parts of your body, almost making you melt down the wall you were laid on. In your mind, the picture of your Lieutenant and what he could’ve been doing to you instead, crowded your mind. 

You pictured his hands all over your body, leaving purple bruises on your skin. His face buried deep into your cunt, licking your sweetness off of you. You picture his hoarse voice calling your name, but did not picture it dragging you out of your daydreams. Nor did you imagine the door closing right in front of you, revealing to you your own dreams in flesh and bone.

“Yn,” he called and you swiftly removed your hands from your pants, shame burning red up your neck. “I hope you’re aware this is a very unacceptable behavior.” 

The raspiness of his voice would have sent you on overdrive, but now it frightened you to no end. Taking slow but steady steps in your direction, Ghost had his eyes locked on you, drowsy and darkened, as yours, instead, filled with tears. Fear of what was about to come next filling you up. “Especially when your Lieutenant is right here.”

Staring down at you, he tugged at the hem of your legging, pulling it away from your skin and peeking into it, spotting the red underwear you were now thankful for selecting. He slid a hand you didn’t notice was ungloved down your pants, inside your panties, feeling his way down through your trimmed hairs and soaked folds. When he reached the spot your own hands had just been playing at, his cold fingers caused you to jolt, unused to the strange sensation.

“These naughty new recruits, always causing me some trouble,” he stated, sight still locked into your eyes.

Starting to move, his movements were much rasher than yours, rubbing at your clit ferociously from the start, dragging out moans muffled by your pursed lips out of you. Not long later, just as your vision was starting to spot, you felt him park his hand at your entrance. You had to hold his arm for support once you felt him entering your pussy, his palm fractioning against your already sensitive clit as he pushed his fingers in and out of your leaking core.

With speed, you let out moan after moan. Your legs started to tremble, as you felt your release knocking, begging to come out, and you barely held yourself up before his low raspy voice guided your eyes up to his. “With only one finger?” he stared you down, voice too close mocking for your liking.

“That was only one finger?” you cried out, a bit louder than you’d expected.

“Now it’s two.”

He resumed his movements, the new girth tearing you apart, the pain mixing with the pleasure making you wetter by the second. Noticing your weakling legs, with his free hand he pinched your ass, sliding his hand to just below it to pull you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

The wet noises his fingers were making echoed through the empty corridors, and you prayed no one else was hidden somewhere, watching you reduced to a fucked up mess on your superior’s fingers. With his finger thrusts, he stared down at you, golden lashes a majestic sight, as if you were a mere toy in his hands. A puppet he could play around with all night long.

His eyes bore deep into yours, making you feel small, diminished. Since your mouth hung open, silent moans escaping from it almost rhythmically, he held your throat and, playing first with your bottom lip, forced his thumb inside your mouth. You sucked on it like a hungry baby, and you swore you heard a chuckle come out of him.

Soon, you could feel your orgasm coming through. Your wall sucked his fingers in, needing to be filled with so much more. Your high grew, your legs suddenly light like a feather, your vision spotted, almost blacking out, and your mind blank of any proper or coherent thought. Just as you were about to come, a loud moan left your mouth, instantly to be covered by the Lieutenants free hand, making your skin burn from the accidental slapping, but only adding to your aroused sensation.

Ghost shook his head at you, removing his fingers from inside you just as quickly as the moan came out. He left you empty, hollow, as he still looked at you with a disappointed shadow in his brown eyes. 

“Pathetic behavior,” he whispered, stepping away from you. Your legs dropped to the ground, and you had to hold yourself up so as not to fall to the floor. Turning on his heels, ass shaking deliciously as he walked away, he didn’t even care to look back at you as he gave you one last warning. “Present yourself to my office, Yn. We have to think of what punishment I’ll be giving you.”

[bakvrue]

luminance

genya x reader, 1.4k, genya is taller than you, fluff, fem reader, maybe unsafe swimming practices, divider by saradika

“How did you hear about this again?”

Genya’s hand is in yours as you lead him along a dark path. The trees and bushes towering over you are bathed in nothing but the light of the stars as their leaves dance in the wind.

“The little old ladies in town told me about it. They said that it’s a town tradition to go, so we have to!”

You hold his hand a little tighter, asking him to trust you. 

You’re only here for a small mission but you quickly came to love this small town and all of its people; the grandmas who pile food on your plate, the kids who run up to you to hold your hand, and the streets that make you feel like you're walking home. 

You smile remembering the faces of the women who told you about the town’s unique lore, their whispers and giggles had followed you all week as they watched you and Genya patrol the town together. They saw you hang off his every word, how your heart flutters every time he looks at you for too long, and how his face turns red every time you catch him. 

He looks at you as if you molded the sun in your two hands and you look at him as if he hand-carved every crater on the moon. How could they not notice?

But what you neglect to tell Genya is what the town’s folklore actually says. 

The dirt path slowly gives way to sand as you continue to walk and the stars guide you until you hear the faint sound of waves crashing. 

The path straightens out in front of you and your breath hitches in your throat.

The sea meets the horizon in an explosion of stars, interstellar colors dance across the water that crashes along the rocky beach, and with each break of waves a bright blue sparkle dances along the sand. The blue sparkle glows so brightly, you’ve never seen anything like it.

“Wow,” you sigh with wonder. Your body feels lighter than it has in years, the beauty catches you off guard and you can hardly take your eyes off of the crashing waves.

Genya squeezes your hand tightly and your gaze turns to him. He opens his mouth but he doesn't have the words he wants to say yet. There's a familiar feeling in his chest, like an old memory waking up from a thousand years of slumber.

“Come on, let's get closer!”

You let go of his hand and run towards the beach, your arms held out to your sides like a little kid running toward the ocean for the first time. 

And his memory comes flooding back. 

His mother sits along the banks of the river that runs near his childhood home. The sun casts shadows through leaves onto her hair as she mends the holes in his younger brother's clothing. Most of his siblings are all playing in the shallow water, their giggles and shouts bouncing off of the river's surface, but Koto, his youngest brother, sleeps gently in Genya’s lap.

“Genya,” his mother calls, remembering the sound of her voice for the first time in a long time. He takes a deep breath in and watches you reach the glowing water's edge. “Genya, my wish for you is to find someone who shows you what it’s like to have wonder. You and your brother take care of our family so well, you both grew up so fast. You’ll meet someone—”

The tiny version of himself cuts her off, “Like a wife?” Baby Genya’s eyes pop open, his face growing more and more red, and his mother chuckles to herself 

“Something like that,” she smiles at him and Genya looks down at his sleeping brother in his lap. “I can take Koto,” she motions to him. puts down her sewing as the Shinazugawa sisters come running up, begging to play with him.

“Come on Genya!” “The water is so cold!” “You have to play with us!”

Another nod from his mother and he gives in. Sumi pulls at his hand while Teiko runs ahead of them, her arms spread out to her sides before she jumps in the water.

The sun from that day fades and he sees you smile at him.

You extend a hand to him, inviting him to join you.

He’s heard the tales of this beach, and even the old wives tale the women have probably told you. He takes a deep breath and exhales. 

Wonder, huh?

He kicks off his shoes and gives you a dastardly smile, one that you're soon to regret.

“Genya, what are you—” 

He runs at you, catching you off guard. This mountain of a man gets to you in mere seconds and throws you onto his shoulder. You scream and laugh as he continues running into the water, each glowing step getting slower and slower as the water rises. Every splash he makes in the water glows brighter blue.

“The water’s freezing!” you squeal as the bioluminescent waves splash against your heels.

He takes one final step, “Better hold your breath!” He laughs before dunking you both underwater.

You surface quickly and realize the water is only waist deep, you keep your shoulders under the water. The night air touching your wet clothes is colder than the water now.

Genya surfaces and flips his hair back, the sea sparkle illuminating his face with a beautiful blue glow. He takes your hand in the water and pulls you to him and in turn you wrap your arms around his neck, not letting your nerves have any say in this moment. You’ve never been this bold with each other, hugging quickly or poking at him or sleeping on his shoulder is the closest you've been. But now you're face to face.

You playfully slap at his chest for dunking you, stirring up the water and with it and even more blue blossoms around you. You don't have the heart to chastise him, even as pretend, so you just laugh. And he joins in, his head falling back in true laughter.

Watching him laugh, the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners and how each laugh comes with rippling blue waves… you don't think you've ever felt this happy in your whole life. 

His laughter slows and he sighs your name, bliss leaking out of his every pore. His hand rises out of the water and he cups your neck. 

Any last nerves you had melt away just looking at his face. This is the man that you… You stop yourself. Maybe you shouldn't say it yet, even in your own head. But the man that you like very much, and the two of you are floating in the ocean together, not a care in the world. 

Your breathing starts to match his as the two of you fall into sync. Your eyes map out every feature of his face, committing it to memory as his eyes fall to your lips.

Genya’s face starts turning red, the glowing algae gives him away, but you're sure that it's doing the same for you. Letting him see every imperfection you have, every scar and doubt and negative thing about you. And he's here anyway. His heart is so close to yours that you can practically feel it beating in time with yours.

His lips are soft against yours as you breathe him in. A culmination of everything you've ever felt for him being poured out under this night sky. Your arms tighten around him, holding onto him with everything you have. Your ache to be closer, your desire to have him all to yourself, to give him every piece of yourself and watch him cradle it, and then to do the same for him. He’s desperate to keep you close, arms sliding around your waist and holding you so tightly. 

His lips pull against yours as the waves continue to crash, the illuminated ocean guiding your way back to his lips over and over again, your body finding its new path home. 

Your first kiss with him will always taste like the salt of the sea.

It is said that lovers who bathe in the blue sea sparkle together will have their love story written in the stars, for two lovers who take the plunge together are bound to become soulmates and live out the rest of their days together, in this life and the next.

[sitepathos]

hey, I wanted to ask a couple of obvious or non-obvious things about the so-called "mold" because the very idea of it the first time I read it seemed very strange to me and I read it constantly interrupting myself to think whether it was really good or bad, BUT, the further it went, the more I started to like it terribly and as a result I had questions about this... thing.

Abilities and knowledge are good, but what about the other side of all this? Are there any side effects, so to speak? And what about weaknesses, both obvious and perhaps not obvious? Can this somehow greatly affect ordinary life? And if there are weaknesses and they can be used well in general, then could the BatFamily use them to their advantage?

(Sorry if it’s not coherent, I’m writing in a rush of questions and feelings...)

I’ve thought about doing a detailed report on how the Megamycete affects you, so thank you for asking this!

Powers

Mycokinesis: with the Megamycete in your body, you can call upon its mold from within and create weapons like tendrils and armor composed of hardened mold. You can also control the roots that are all around Gotham and use them however you see fit.

Quorum Sensing: the roots of the Megamycete have spread all throughout Gotham for over four-hundred years, serving as its eyes and ears. You can tap into the roots and see anywhere you wish just by thinking of it, even if you’re far from the city. This is also seen when you turned into a murder of crows; while you were composed of multiple birds, they shared a single consciousness and you were able to see from all their perspectives all at once.

Record Access: the Megamycete has absorbed countless corpses over the centuries, both man and beast, and assimilating their memories, knowledge, and even DNA into its archives. Thanks to this, you can call upon this living repository and use it as if it were your own. Because of this, you technically have the knowledge and qualifications for many kinds of occupations and diplomas that would take years to obtain.

Shapeshifting: thanks to the Megamycete bonding with you at the genetic level and its vase records, you can call change into any form you desire, be it a bird, a beast, or a long-dead human (and you have even assume their voice if you desire). You can also make modifications to your real body, such as making a pair of functioning wings without assuming a bird form.

Regeneration: thanks to the Megamycete’s mold, you can heal from even the most serious wounds, such as gunshot wounds. You can lose a limb and you can just stick it back on your body and you’ll be as good as new (or just grow another one if the old limb can’t be recovered).

Superhuman Stamina: as stated in Chapter 6, the Megamycete gives you incredible stamina, reducing your need for food or rest (though you can still feel mentally fatigued as stated in Chapter 4). You still consume food and sleep because you actually enjoy these, but they don’t sustain you like they did before. The Megamycete’s all you need.

Superhuman Strength: the Megamycete makes you far stronger than you ever were before and gives you more strength than any normal human could ever have. Don’t misunderstand, you’re not Superman, but you could throw Bane around like a rag doll.

Benefits

In conclusion, the Megamycete makes you far faster, stronger, and smarter than any normal human.

Weaknesses

Unsurprisingly, the Megamycete’s mold has a vulnerability to fire. If we go by video game logic, it makes sense that a “plant-type” monster like the Megamycete could easily be hurt by.

Following the same video game logic, the Megamycete’s also vulnerable to the cold. Mold (normal, non-sentient mold) can still be found in cold environments, but it becomes dormant in freezing temperatures. While the Megamycete is more powerful than regular mold, it went into a kind of hibernation when it still resided in Gotham as it gets very cold in winter.

And while this is a bit of a spoiler, the Megamycete can be vulnerable to forms of toxins/poisons. While it can metabolize any hazardous substances and survive, if a specially designed toxin is designed to target its strain of mold, it could pose a very serious risk to the Megamycete. But, it would require special equipment, extensive knowledge in mycology and toxicology, and lots of money. Know anyone that fits that description?

[sepublic]

I wonder if part of the reason for Flapjack’s death was to contrast how Hunter handled his own grief over a lost loved one, vs Philip’s response?

There’s the immediate reactions of pushing people away; Philip refuses the kindness of the locals in his search for Caleb and especially afterwards, tries to kill Evelyn, and rebukes his own brother in favor of holding onto bitterness.

Hunter becomes snappy, aggressive, and closed off after losing Flapjack; Like Philip, he devotes himself to a mission of finding a fellow Wittebane, and gets frustrated over any perceived frivolities and distractions.

But eventually, Hunter recognizes that while his trauma is valid, he’s also been pushing Willow away and placing a lot of burden on her as well. It’s okay that he was triggered by the Emerald Entrails photo instead of reassured, but part of Hunter and Willow’s resolution is the former clarifying that yes, her efforts to reach out do mean a lot to him. And Willow means a lot to Hunter too, that’s why he wants to reciprocate and accept, instead of causing her to feel just as ineffectual by refusing help; Willow deserves help too!

Not only that, but Philip and Hunter both created living beings as a coping mechanism, only for one to be unhealthy, while the other actually recovered. Philip is obsessed with creating perfect replicas of Caleb, casting out Grimwalkers for being too different from the mold, not good enough, and keeping them all to himself; The Grimwalkers aren’t allowed their own lives nor any other relationships.

Hunter makes palismen for others, he’s giving people the companionship he himself lost, and he isn’t designing anything after Flapjack, not necessarily; Just whatever a witch needs. Even his personal palisman, Waffles, is visually different while still hearkening to Flapjack, because Hunter is a Clawthorne after all; He can move on and be himself while also honoring his connections with others, and not become unhealthily dependent or averse to them.

Hunter made Waffles and thus must’ve chosen these differences, or carved an egg like Luz did, so his palisman could choose a form. I find that wonderfully ironic, for while Hunter has more control over how his creations turn out, he doesn’t abuse this to create a replica of Flapjack; He enables and encourages variation instead, while Philip gambles to make each Grimwalker closer to the original, eliminating any deviations as if that will alter the odds.

One uses control to give to others, the other has no control and desperately wants it over others. Philip grows and Hunter whittles away, but it’s Hunter who proves more nurturing and free. Both used palistrom wood, but Hunter’s coping mechanism encourages its growth, while Philip hoards and even devours it.

Hunter surpasses his uncle by suffering in similar ways, only to show that you can still recover without hurting others; Philip really does have no excuse, for Hunter is an example of the person he easily could and should’ve been in response to loss. Philip tried to spread his pain by repeating it in others, he killed Flapjack (and projected onto Luz, as if to absolve himself by claiming she should do the same, since anyone else would’ve); But Hunter looked his uncle in the eye and said No, I will not be a vector for your bitterness.

[joannasteez]

nsfw alphabet | romans reigns

pairing: roman reigns x black reader

warning/authors note: self explanatory. explicit content below! minors please do not interact. i been wanting to do one of these for a little minute so here it us.

(A) AFTERCARE

the throb in your spine is sweet. but it is torture. it aches. takes the course of your muscles, leaving you limp and short breathed. dragging moans pass into whimpers, the split of your ears and that wayward blur of vision taking you fast. he was good, too much even, making a mess of you to please his own needs. an insatiable desire to see you broken and undone. he loved you, a natural dedication to you like the sun to it's sky, but he loved to wreck you just as easily. pull you to pieces just to build you whole again. 

so he holds you close, like a soft mold against the wide build of him. a tender grip of hands and light kisses to your pulse that will away those harsh thumps of blood. he kneads and caresses. slots the wet of his tongue till its between your lips, taking you in for a tender kiss. whispers delicate into your skin, sweet nothings, that sound like everything. "so beautiful". fingers warms. soothing. "feeling so good on me". his mouth lazy and loving. "you were made for me". 

and you preen, nudge your nose to his and wrap your legs tighter. maybe in the hope to stick to him. 

(B) BODY PART

theres always a favorite, but whats more important is the occasion. for his more amorous needs, when his skin grows skittish and hot. fingers flexing with need, twitching at nothing in the hopes to touch you soon, he will absolutely bring his mouth to your breast. squeeze and pinch and groan till he's had his fill. flick and roll his tongue at the hard of your nipples, messy drips of his spit slipping down past his mouth. and he groans. takes his time and feels you tremble in his lap, breath hitching as you grind at him for some form of friction. 

but when he isn't that needy, struck by lust. his favorite part of your body is your neck. it's where his lips go, if not at your lips, they trail the skin there at your neck. at home, at gatherings. quick pecks and lingerings kisses. it's intimate and possessive. 

(C) CUM

roman had resolved himself early on to the idea that, if he was gonna come undone anywhere, that it'd always be inside you. the tight mess of your heat too incredible to ignore or forsake. he'd groan, something strangled and rugged, hips rutting wild and ill controlled, and when he was ready, he'd pull from the softness of you slow and watch his spend drip lazy.

but you'd changed his mind. or rather, you'd given him a different perspective. in some summer country villa in the dead of the night, surrounded by melted candles and the lulling scent of lavender. you'd been particularly fired up and demanding. "kneel", you'd told him, and without much fight he'd dipped his tongue through your slit. committing the taste of your clit to memory. every moan you made hardening him till his dick ached from the faintest touch. but he worked you good, pleased you, and when he was through, you took him, hot and stiff in your hand and ran him through the soaked mess of your pussy. and there he stayed. rutting and groaning, till his speed and control broke to nothing and he came there. just at your clit. chest rising and falling deep. 

your fingers rubbed and teased his cum at your slit, arching and spreading as he watched. he felt the possession in it, a silent claim that you were his. 

(D) DIRTY SECRET

you're a charming woman. you make people smile. so when the guys on the roster meet you, it's no question that their hand shakes come with a brighter smile, something more genuine than before. and their eyes linger a little longer when they think roman isn't looking. "i like your shoes", but its really your legs. "i like your dress", but it's really your figure. "you look nice today", but they'd rather say beautiful, their eyes flitting to your lips. 

but he hates that part of him would like to watch. he would like to see you with someone else, only to have you after, and have them realize that the difference is jarring. they'd pale in comparison, because you were made for him, or rather that's what he'd like to believe. it's all voyeurism for prides sake, a simple means for his ego to swell. so he keeps that tucked away from you, in the deepest parts of him. where the control of it is strong and true.

(E) EXPERIENCE 

its not about how experienced he is but more of what the experience is like being with him. his in ring persona is manipulative and domineering and a lot of an asshole. he takes pieces of all those things and sprinkles them throughout the loving ways he takes care of you. teases and controls the pace, between kisses. whispers of sweet nothings in between taunts that leave you desperate for more of him. when he grunts, and urges you to "take it". when his hips grind and an awfully harsh beat moves his heart at the dazed sight of you. "my good girl", he'll say in praise. and "i love you", when your eyes take his own in a deep stare. 

but sometimes the tribal chief bleeds into his eyes, suffers the softer parts of him to quiet and he becomes merciless, even in his mercy. tosses and pulls at your body to have you exactly where he wants you and when you spasm hard and soak his skin and sheets a sodden mess he scoffs. feigning disgust as you spurt wet and unrestrained. narrowing his eyes at the shivers your body takes, your voice small and sobbing. begging. “im sorry”, you cry, thighs wet from the seemingly endless onslaught of him. feeling him press into the arch of you back. his knee bending for a better angle. a more brutal pace. he sneers in a taunting manner, reveling in the weight of his power. “no, no youre not. you love coming for me”, his breath heavy. “so fucking needy”.

it's an intense experience.

(F) FAVORITE POSITION

missionary, missionary, missionary. with your legs bent to your chest, spread and aching. well yes, of course. BUT. those lazy days, afternoons, nights, whenever they are, moments on the couch still. when the lights are low and the breeze is a little more than just chilly. you find your self hot, skin damp, nothing more than moans and a mess of whimpers, hips taking a slow ride atop him. the pace lax, his lips sticky from the filthy roll of your tongue. "take your time sweetheart", his palms spread and caressing at your hips. working through the ache. "get what you need", soft and sure. "fuck me till you come" as his hips push upward, a tender nudge into the clutch of your slick heat. hot and hard and patient for you. 

(G) GOOFY

playful during? not so much. maybe when you both have had a drink or two. not drunk but buzzed, and you're not so steady. not as poised and put together. a little clumsy and falling over him. he's kissing your skin, leading with tongue and ending with painless nips of his teeth. you giggle and squirm, and he tries to get you to still. to concentrate, but you giggle more. more and more and it makes this big burly man atop you snort. a cute silly little moment before you're kissing him and asking him to take you slowly. 

(H) HAIR

yes yes yes, he trims. not enough to be bare but its clean. it looks kept, but who gives a fuck about that when he's got a head of hair like he does. its this raven black color almost. inky and long. sticking to his skin, falling over his eyes and at the soft line of his lips. it whips up when his head nudges hard, slick at his back threatening to fall over once more as he pushes his tongue to taste the inner warmth of your thighs. your fingers pulling through it to urge him. his hair is always soft. like fine silk running through your palm. and when you rough at the root, pleading, enough to give him a firm guide to where you need him most, he grunts and waits for another tough short pull because he's such a damn tease. and sometimes when need overtakes the natural authority of him, his hair will get messy, splay out and over till its everywhere, fluffy and kind of damp, as he kisses you with sticky wet lips. sloppy and full of breath. his tongue drunk and his eyes threatening to roll. he clings to you like his own strands of hair. utterly addicted.

(I) INTIMACY

the feeling was an odd one, something new and less known to him. this breaking in his bones, in the wide stretch of muscle, where strength holds fast and his resolve proves unbendable. its a tension in him that splits even till it grows raw to the touch. every one of your kisses making him shiver till groans push hard from his chest without restraint. his spine throbs and in the deep parts of his ears resound this heavy pulsing. his nape shivers at your touches there, delicate and tender. your skin soft and sweet to the tough build of him. you hum and purr, a moan and a kiss, his hips slow to move but persistent for the tight vice of you. he breathes heavy, warm. cursing the ache in his gut for the way it coils and burns unashamed. his eyes watered with yours, welling till a tear slips free. "tell me again", roman pleads. his fingers nailing into the sheets, the brown of his eyes earthy and sincere. "tell me please". and the seam of your lips play along his, sharing his breaths, the pound of his heart rolling into your chest. your arms about him, clinging desperate to savor. his forehead rests against yours and you whisper amongst the silence. "i love you". 

(J) JACK OFF

its a mixture of preference and occasion. alone and needy, he’ll conjure up the filthiest fantasy. your body, your skin, the wet take of your lips and the tender claw in of your nails to him. lines drawn from broad shoulders to the slim curve in of his waist. begging with tears, with short faint breath. please please please, you’d beg. his wrist stiff and his palm tight as he strokes hard, trying to replicate the shape of you. somehow soft and unrelenting all the same, powerful enough to bring him to his knees. and when the dream is vivid enough, the blur of his imagination coming into something defined, he can almost feel you. and just there, amongst the rain of a shower, he’ll come. groans broken and stuttered in their escape.

but it isn’t always like this, left by himself to work through the tension mounting in his bones. sometimes the air is more sultry, more sensual than the emptiness of white bathroom tiled walls and warm prickling water. sometimes he’ll melt into your touch, into the leather of the sofa. he’ll whimper and curse, breathy and fighting for patience, finding himself undone and ill suited to do anything but beg for you to be near him. and you’ll kiss the skin behind his ear, trail lazy and seductive till you take his neck as a place to taste. to lick and suck, teeth nipping to tease. and your hand goes strict, this steady wringing of your wrist that coax’s his hips to lift, chasing the feeling. he huffs, struggles to fight the unraveling that awaits him, breath hot and delicate as he nudges into your neck. lips attempting to kiss, to gain some form of control, but he grasps at nothing, left dazed in his own desperation. he mumbles, incoherent.

“fuck i-“

“please”

“oh-ah…shit”

every muscle in him tenses, a stillness where his breath hitches, before his nerves rattle wild. he drags through a groan, chest pulling in and pushing out, breath after breath as he comes.

(K) KINK

say it with me. overstimulation. roman, within the boundaries that have been set, is menacing. he schemes, he plots. he thinks methodically, and he acts out his ideas in ways that you have only ever briefly dreamed of because trust is a scary thing to give. he'd of course only step as far as you'd let him, but roman was a big man, and so the distances he could cover were more than enough to meet your every desire. and he took to ropes easily, their weight, the strength of a knot as it wrapped about your skin, tight but not too much. the supple inner flesh of your thighs bare and bound, your pussy dripping with anticipation as darkness loomed. the tie around your eyes silky and assuring. you could feel him staring, a grand statuesque form roaming about the room as you laid spread and shallow breathed. 

the bed dipped and you fought against the pounding in your chest, begging for it to still with shudders. the seconds drawn slow into minutes. 

his mouth this gentle skim above yours, tongue slipping to run faint. "breathe babygirl". 

you chase the phantom of his lips for something. a kiss, his tongue, anything. he chuckles dark, a rumbling from his chest that leaves you eager. 

"you trust me?", he asks. fingers running in a clever maneuver toward where you ache for him. his thumb a sweet delicate caress at the pulse of your clit. 

you body melts into the bed, back arching as your hips buck for friction. "ahh", the length of his middle and ring finger burying deep till they cover wet to the knuckle. "oh fuck me, i need-"

"not yet", he cuts. his fingers resting idle in you. letting you throb and pulse. letting you feel and rest in the depth of his touch. 

(L) LOCATION

let's set the scene shall we?...steam, a thick cloud. water raining with a prickling heat. the cascade of it stressing a warmth into your skin, but nothing that beats the heat of him. the tower of his body, taut and statuesque. he's all muscle and power, the pull and push of his hips is vicious and beautiful. languid and tormenting. his mouth drapes your neck, trails lazy till his nose nudges into wet hair. curses and groans deep, melodic. he ruts singleminded, the heart of his pleasure stored in the devious clench of your pussy. his breaths draw in, they release, they shudder, waver with weakness, drag and go broken, all done by the tight slick dripping between your legs. flowing till it trickles along the shower floor. 

and he likes the echo here. the bounce of your moans from tile to tile, till it finds itself slipping clever into his ear. the shower differs from the bed, calls for something possessive and raw. the space doesn't open the way it would in his bed. here he stills your body, holds your hips and wills into your flesh the need to trust him. to trust the hold he has on your body.

your hand trembles, dainty and desperate. pulls his fingers till his palm rest just at the soft of your mound. you groan, weak and dazed. eyes threatening to roll. 

"how's that sweetheart? you like me there? you like me stretchin' that pussy?" 

a tear wells. your voice small. "yes".

(M) MOTIVATON

let's revisit his dirty secret, that slight voyeuristic streak in him that wonders about you with other people. and though he, in the deeper, more quiet parts of him, likes to fantasize about it, what gets his blood going more than knowing they wouldn't hold a candle to him, is the subtle and not so subtle ways you reject these advances. you feel the stares and the lingering touches, the charming smiles and the eagerness for small talk. and you indulge to a degree; coy grins, little intimate laughs where your hand takes to a strong arm that isn't roman's and that slight head tilt to the side as a whisper flows to your ear like some little hushed secret. 

and these little events are all the same. wrestlers in a room, drinking and eating, chatting about everything and anything. 

it's a little easy to slip into a few drinks, to get comfortable. sometimes overly comfortable. and while it doesn't always happen, there are moments where the air pushes beyond flirty into something more solid and the veil is lifted. you pull back, feeling roman's eyes turn cold, because the game is only fun for you when he's playing too. 

"whats one more drink?", someone from the roster will ask. completely taken by your charm. a hand attempting to reach for the lower dip-in of your back to guide you to the bar. "one too many", a soft smile. quick and naturally small about your movements as you slip away from them  and back over to roman before anything else can transpire. 

"having fun?", he'll ask. 

"not anymore", a gentle pout. standing under the burden of his eyes. the grip of his hand at your waist a little more firm than usual. trying against his will to calm. 

he hates to love this little game. 

"we gotta fix that". 

but the fix is a blunt stroke of his hips. hot fingers and an even hotter release. it's this odd chain reaction of waiting and watching, till the possession in him unfurls broad and stifling. his palms twitch and his nose flares. you could have anyone and anything you wanted, this he knew for sure, but you were here with him. choking on the heaviness of a moan as he fucked rough into you against the sink of a bathroom. 

"he'd never have you, none of them would. not like this, so desperate and ready to come".

pride blooming in his chest, the soft warm pull of your heat greedy and unsatisfied as you drip against him. 

(N) NO

roman won't do anything non-consensual based, and nothing that could directly compromise his hygiene or yours. he's all about trust and a shared experience, and if anything goes against that, he won't even consider it. 

(O) ORAL

curtains sweep, flowing delicate. a soft glow taking to your skin as they sway, working to tame the harsh rush in of the morning sun. and the view from where he stands is picturesque. the drape of you against the sheets reminiscent of beloved paintings of old, far too fine and intricate to be handled. but here, he gets to touch you, form the heat of his hands to tender skin. and of course roman aims to be gentle. aims to caress light, to enjoy the feel of you without such harsh rushes of desperation. and he does it well, molds his lips to you unhurried, patient, there at your neck, the smooth plain of your shoulders, till they grow deep and lingering, teasing where your collarbone lives. 

you shift awake, moaning with a drunken sort of awareness. tethered some still to sleep. your fingers roaming the wide stretch of his back. taut muscle and warm skin.

roman finds himself nestling in at where heat runs just at your inner thighs. so close to where you begin to yearn for him.

the steadiness of his patience feeling to you more and more like teasing. 

his tongue licks warm and simple. riles up the rest of your nerves that dare still to sleep. and his lips move, in tandem with deft fingers. panties pulling over and away to make room for the heavy heat of his breath. 

he’s just there, looming over the throb of your clit. eyes lazy and growing fascinated at the way you clench and release about nothing but the anticipation of his touch. 

the tip of his nose leads the seam of his lips as they ghost and when he speaks, your hips chase that faint soft bed of his mouth. hungry for him. 

“i had a dream about you”, he muses. suckling the skin where your inner thigh bends. 

your voice breaks off the remnants of sleep. tone coarse but still to him so damn sweet. “yeah? about what?”

“doesn’t matter”, he hums. a wet gentle strike of his tongue at the tip of your clit. testing the reflex of your hips, a satisfied grin as he watches your hips roll and arousal pool. “you being there was enough” 

you chuckle. hissing as his thumbs spread your wider, angling to push in and trap your clit. the nub pulses, forces an arch to form just at your back. 

“you love to sweet talk”. words breathy. 

“you love to hear it”.’

“roman…”, you urge. pleading his name. 

he hums. “you ever known me not to take care of u?”

“no”. 

“then relax for me”. command gentle and restraining. 

his thumbs move, circling firm. but you need more. 

he's touched you, but barely, not in the way's you've at many times known him to, when the air is heavy, your body's clinging and rutting one against the other, senseless and wild. in those times, the urgency takes him and possesses him with a more vicious sort of passion. storming with impatience. but his time here though, as he skims your skin and takes delight in the heavy bursts of breath from your chest, whiny and incapable of waiting, is endless. 

and his restraint has much reason, if nothing more than to see you weak and undone. his kisses sweet at the light quiver taking your thighs, and the soft slipping lick he takes at the fat of clit. a steady downward stroke, moving to reach at the wet clench of your entrance, till he curls lazy, drooling with thirst, adding to the mess of you. 

oh his restraint has much reason, mouth working till it covers over the whole of your lower lips, roman's hands like nails as they push to suffer your thighs under their weight. anything to spread you further, to get himself deeper into the taste of you. tongue prodding till it dips through to where you drip and throb, muscles clenching, begging for a stretch and to feel the fullness it knows he can give it.

he slurps obnoxious, your taste steeping in till it soaks his mouth. forces something raw out of his chest, a lax groan that rattles your bones. 

and he holds there, suckling till he feels you grow weak into the bed. whimpers that break off fragile. 

his touch, where ever it finds itself, is all passion. every flick and caress, every roll and kiss and tensing bite, every moan and every second he takes to please you is this raw form of devotion. a wordless sort of reverence that is singleminded in its plot to draw from you the finest pleasure. 

(P) PACE

he's an all around type of guy, and the pace varies upon his mood, but you can always tell what you'll get before he even touches you. when those coffee brown eyes twinkle in their mischief, and his touch pours hot into your skin, you know he'll tease you till your nerves stress and your voice breaks with begging. the dip and roll of his hips shallow and unfulfilling. almost like he can't stand to see you happy and satisfied, and you hate to love him then. his taunting words and the amusement in his eyes, high off control.

but sometimes he reads more vicious. his touch is the harsh piercing of a nail and his hips knock into you rough as they see to your undoing. he spreads you wide and grows relentless, ego fed by the writhing of your body and the limp form your moans take. his pace is brutal then, stills your hips to dig into you till he's buried to the hilt. 

and other times a softness overtakes him, washes him whole and drives him to the utmost gentleness. his ministrations grow tenderly deft, hips steady and patient. he takes the time to feel you, every short twitch and the lingering way you cling and pull at him, coaxes him deeper till you've taken every part of him. 

(Q) QUICKIE

if he doesn't have to have a quickie he won't, but life doesn't work that way and sometimes, when the pull in his gut is far too harsh to ignore, he'll pull you aside and make quick work of sharing that neediness, till you're attacking him quick and breathy, kissing his lips wet and hasty. his hips rutting, sweat breaking at his skin, his forehead nestled into your neck as he chases that heavy pulling in his gut and the burn in his flesh that comes with release. 

(R) RISK

he's not as much of a risk taker as he'd maybe like to be. he's very much all about his image and staying negative press free. and you of course respect his wishes, but there are times where he will indulge your riskiness, at private events mainly, where cameras are more than likely non-existent. 

(S) STAMINA 

his restraint will more than likely dictate this in a way. if he's hard pressed to release the tension in his bones, he makes quick good work of taking care of you before he does so for himself, and sometimes that can look a little quicker than usual but other times, more often than not, the pleasure can feel endless, with these short bouts of reprieve, right before he's back to doling out pleasure. 

(T) TOYS

the voyeur in him can't hate your use of toys and you are more than proficient at pleasing yourself. can you bring yourself to a hair pulling release, completely breathless and ears split as you feel the undoing of your nerves, maybe not as intensely, but thats where he comes in. he's all about the collaboration, anything to see you twitch and quiver uncontrolled, to have you begging and pleading his name. 

(U) UNFAIR 

he's the BIGGEST TEASE, and definitely has more moments of unfairness than you do. he mocks you, denies you sometimes even, and when he's in a less generous mood, all in the name of seeing you squirm, he'll even downright ignore your advances. 

(V) VOLUME 

the volume is something that is shared more equally than not, neither of you more louder than the other. the both of you falling into your moments where words and noises are unabashed in how loud they can be. but it's never insanely loud. theres been a time or two though, at a hotel maybe, where a knock comes about a complaint. 

(W) WILDCARD  "do you trust me?" you'd asked him. 

"yes", without hesitation. 

and the rope wrapped tight about his skin was beautiful, something quite more artistic than you'd expected. his muscles bulging against the taut knots and tawny twine. his hair hanging long and damp, stray pieces sticking to him as his skin grew red with desire. his thighs spread and restrained, dick aching and standing stiff. in need of much attention. but you were not in the service of pleasing him. no you were very much enjoying the tremble in his body, the desperate way he chased your lips, and the lazy pass of his eyes as they took to the tight lace painting your skin. 

you lean in, bowing forward, your nails resting at his thighs, lips running to ghost the seam of his. tongue escaping to lick a less than faint strip. and he rumbles, cock twitching, his chest rising the more you tease his mouth. 

"you're so good. so obedient". 

your hand itches to touch him, fingers delicate and controlled as you take his warm length to caress light. and he accepts what friction he can get, his head lulling back, hair swaying, a groan flowing as your touch becomes slightly more firm. his hips rut forward, and then your touch disappears. a frown taking your lips in confusion. you'd thought you'd made yourself rather clear.

"if you can't control your urges, then maybe you don't deserve to come". 

" 'm sorry", the loom of your figure leaving him, and it nearly leaves him ill. "fuck, i'm sorry". 

you hum, thumb reaching to sooth at his cheek. the only touch you can afford to give him as you watch him suffer. 

(X) X-RAY

you could say so many things, but to put it short and sweet, he's above average, but not incredibly big. he's thick, veiny, and a bit curved. just enough to slightly knock the wind out of you. to have you feeling full. 

(Z) ZZZ

he'll fall fast asleep rather quickly. after he's sought to your needs, he'll pull your body in close to share the heat of him, shape the silhouette of you with his warmth and allow sleep to take him. and other times, when you're last to sleep, roaming around till your restlessness is no more, you'll wrap an arm around his waist, attempting at a big spoon, but it's no use of course. and he'll remedy that by turning over in his daze, a soothing drag of a hum sounding from him as he's pulling you to his chest. effectively turning him into a body pillow.

[searchingsomewhere]

Self Control

Zayne × Reader

A little something based off my LADS Headcannons. I think I'll do one for each of the guys, what do yall think?👀

- Nero

Cw: smut. Choking, office sex.

Moonlight shines through the window brightly, casting the room in a shimmering blue light. Its a small room, something of an office, with papers scattered around the once neat desk. The after hours silence of the empty hospital is only broken by the faintest of gasps.

You know the hospital was empty, because you were supposed to leave hours ago. But there you are, eyes screwed shut, biting your lip to keep quiet just in case a stray janitor is still roaming about. Zayne sits below you, breathing heavily. His hands grip your hips tightly, dragging your clothed cunt across his hardened length. Your blouse is unbuttoned, breasts heaving with every breath and your skin flush from his mouth.

It was wrong.

Inappropriate.

Zayne knew it. Not only were you his patient, but his childhood friend. For years, he averted his green eyed gaze from your form, too shy to ever treat you as anything more than that. Friends don't want each other the way he wants you. Don't fist their cock to orgasm every night thinking of you. So when you came to his office that night to ask about upcoming appointments, the last thing he expected was to have you in his lap. His self control is slipping by the second.

You put your hands against his chest to grind your hips against him. The newfound pressure shocks you through your core. A high pitched moan escapes you and you look away from his dark gaze. You're steadily climbing that high, growing closer and closer to the edge, but it isn't enough.

"Z-Zayne," You whine, "I- Please, I need you so bad."

His deep chuckle vibrates his chest. "Be specific. Tell me what you need."

His hands slow your hips, tearing away that glorious friction that makes your thighs feel like jelly. You whimper pathetically.

"I- I need..." Your voice trails off, embarrassed. You can't look at him. Instead you look off to the side.

"What was that? Speak up," he says. His hands wander up your skirt. Your panties are soaked through. You jump as his fingers begin tracing circles over your clit.

"I need...your cock. Please," Your voice is stronger this time, desperate.

The way his eyes darken goes straight to your aching core.

"Once we start, darling..." he says, low, "I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"I don't want you to stop," you beg, "I just want you inside me."

The small piece of self control he has shatters. He hooks his arms under your thighs, lifting you off his lap to stand. You yelp in surprise, clinging to his neck until he lays you down on his desk. A small voice tells him there's paperwork there that needs to be moved. A bigger voice tells him to forget about the fucking paperwork.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him rip his belt from his slacks. By god are you a sight to see. Pupils blown wide with lust, red lips bitten and swollen from his mouth. The moonlight catches the curves of your breasts, the way your skirt is rucked up around your hips. Your mouth parts, watering at the sight of his cock as he pulls it from his pants. It's rock hard, girthy in his hand as he pumps his shaft to the sight of you alone. A low moan leaves his lips. You spread your legs as an invitation.

Zayne pulls your panties to the side. Your pussy is a marvel. Glistening in the moonlight, a work of anatomical art in it's folds and curves. The sight alone has him nearly finishing in his hand. Instead he taps your cunt with the head of his cock. Both of you moan. You throw your head back as he slides himself against you, lubricating his head with your essence.

When he finally presses his cock into you, your mind short circuits.

"Oh- Oh fuck," You manage. Your fingers instinctively go to your clit, circling it madly. He's so big and filling you up so good.

He bottoms out, eyes screwed shut. You squeeze him so well, your body molding to him perfectly. He opens his eyes as you pull his faced to yours, moaning into his mouth as he begins to thrust into you. It takes everything in him to go slow. He didn't know if you could handle him fucking you like he wanted to.

"H-harder," You beg.

He snaps his hips to yours and you nearly cry out. The pang of pleasure is sharp, jolting through you just the way you want. You urge him on with breathless affirmations, yes yes yes just like thatpleasegod-

"You feel so good," His hand sneaks up to grab your throat and your eyes roll back. You're moaning his name and his grip only tightens, hips pistoning faster and faster into you. "So...fuck...so good."

You hear a creaking sound- the desk is moving in time to his thrusts. Papers shift around you and flutter to the floor. Your moans get louder and you fumble around, grasping for anything to hold on to.

"Please make me cum, please," you beg.

Almost there, almost therealmostthere-

Your wet pussy clenches around him. That coil springing tight in your stomach unfurls. White streaks across your vision. You arch your back, obscenities spilling out of your mouth. Zayne is panting your name, hips hammering his cock into your cunt.

Your breasts bounce in time to his thrusts- he leans down to suckle your nipple, ears full of your moans. It's music to his soul.

"I- So close-" he grunts, pulling your head up to press his forehead against yours.

You're fucked out of your mind. The new position has the angry, fat tip of his cock is hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you so good, so good. Your orgasm is quickly building again.

"Cumming, I'm cumming!" You sob, throwing your head back.

Zayne pulls out, pumping his cock in his hand. Ragged moans leave his lips and he tilts his head, eyebrows screwing up in pleasure. Thick ropes of cum spurt out his tip, soaking your stomach.

You both still, breathing heavily. Zayne runs his hand through his hair, pushing dark locks from his sweaty forehead. His face is flushed red. He seems so embarrassed now, as if he hadn't just fucked you senseless. You reach for him, grinning, and he helps you sit up fully on the desk. You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"So," You pant, a lopsided smile on your lips, "When was my next appointment, again?"