#ivy i wanted more from u!

[funkylilso-n-so]

I am a little sad about how unceremoniously the murders of rat grinders have been so far…..

[plasticsandwich]

thank you for over 1k followers!! wrapped up this special gift for yous

[leave-your-body]

What's the furthest extent of yr sparky knowledge. Like the most obscure thing you can think of. For reference

uhhh maybe the original packaging for the tear jerky cd back when he first made it. w the shadow puppets !!

[asexualjedi]

I’ve but the leaves on the sleeves of the leaf dress and like finished sewing them and ive pinned a leaf boarder on the hem of the skirt bc I was originally going to have big cascading upwards towers of leaves like on the front on the back too like maybe even more but mitchi was like ehh I don’t want really any in the back bc like I want it to be comfortable to sit and stuff and that’s fair. I don’t think it would be like insanely uncomfortable but this is also at the end of the day a dress of a Renn faire and ours are in the fall so like it doesn’t need to be super insanely light. Like our falls can get pretty hot and also. Like don’t want it to be to hot/heavy during car rides or whatver. This is all to say the box under my bed full of fabric and leaves is still half way full of leaves. I have so many fucking leaves left. Does anyone else want leaf couture.

[luveline]

Hii i love the way you write!!! Could you write something about bad ass reader X Spencer? I miss them soo much.... Maybe something about her saying I love you for the first time and she's nervous and he's confused bc he's not understanding why she's nervous and what she's trying to say ❤️❤️❤️

some light spencer fluff ! love u. fem

Spencer has hair like silk. Brown, shiny curls in the milky moonlight of a September sky. The cold air nips his nose and cheeks, leaving ruddy blush like cherry stains that bring out the endless brown of his eyes. His hand is callused beneath yours, evidence of hour upon hour of stooped writing, pen ink on his fingertips, dark black smudges that stretch as they squeeze. He tips his head back to look at the bruising sky and the stars are like pin pricks, close and very, very far as he again squeezes your hand. You’re surprised you can see the stars, but this part of the country is quiet. 

“Wow, look at all of those,” he says, like he’s begging you to see them too; worried you’ll miss out on such a heart-rending sight. 

You let your side weigh on his and look up, feeling the cold of each star above you like a sudden breeze. Your nose is ice, your lips chapping despite a little lip balm you’d rushed on before you left the cottage. It’s a small, beautiful place, decorated by its patches, ivy and cobbled roofing, window panes replaced in different shades of pink and orange and green. You can see it from where you’re standing, a light forgotten in the bathroom. 

Let’s go on a walk, Spencer‘d said, before it gets too cold. 

It’s too cold already. You shiver, forcing more of your weight into Spencer’s side, only slightly abashed as he wraps his arm around you and presses the soft of his cheek to your head. “See that one?” he asks, smiling, “I think that’s the North Star. Brightest one.” 

You close your eyes.

“It’s really cold, isn’t it?” he asks. 

“It’s freezing.” 

Spencer noses your cheek. Your stomach flips, a zapping, sickening electricity bending and aching inside you from his innocuous touch. Intimacy with Spencer has become casual, but not less exciting. You feel him like a contusion, sometimes. Right in the pit of your stomach. It borders on unpleasant, though it never quite gets there. You want him to do this to you for the rest of your life, you think, opening your eyes to catch a last look at the dark sky and its rich field of stars like white strawberry seeds. 

Spencer’s watching you when you drop your chin. You’d scowl if he were anyone else, reluctant to be caught relaxed, but it’s him. 

“You okay?” 

“Shouldn’t I be?” you ask. You’ve given little clue of nerves. You’re as rigid as ever, the softest part of you your hand where he’s petting your index finger. 

“I know when you’re… not fully you,” he says. 

“I’m still me. Just worried.” 

“About what?”

There’s a layer of gutted to his voice you don’t like. You shouldn’t be worried about anything. You and your colleagues at the BAU recently received a pay rise at work, as well as a small bonus, which you and Spencer then cashed to vacation here. It might not be the best time of year, but anywhere with Spencer can be perfect. So far it has been. Waking up with him in a space that isn’t his apartment or yours feels new, startlingly good, it makes you think of the future in ways you hadn’t considered in depth previously. The aching puddle of your stomach yawns again. 

“I have something– something I–” You wince through it as Spencer’s brows rise. “I need to tell you something, Spencer. Before it jumps out of me.” 

“Okay.” His breath is like mist in front of him. His cheeks continue in their reddening. 

“I’m worried I won’t say it the right way.” 

Spencer shakes his head. You’d like to rub some warmth into his skin, but you don’t trust your hands to stay steady. “You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m really happy we’re here. I can’t… there isn’t any other way I’d like to spend the weekend. This is really– Spencer, this is perfect, and it’s because of you. Us.“ Spencer’s overlooked and under appreciated everywhere he goes. Just once, you want him to feel seen for the gem he is. “I really,” —your breath leaves you like it’s been yanked from your chest— “love you.” 

Spencer brings your hand to his chest. “You love me?” he asks, kissing your fingers. 

You dip your chin to your chest. “Yeah.” 

“I love you.“ What an odd emphasis, and somehow the right one. 

You nod. That’s good. It’s good to be loved. You’d known he loved you, of course, but it’s good to have it said aloud. 

“You aren’t surprised?” he asks. “But, why were you worried?” 

Hard to explain. You give in to temptation, cradling the cold stretch of his cheek to rub a thumb over his bottom lip. Your lip balm has left it soft. “I told you, I didn’t think I’d say it right.” 

“You don’t usually say anything wrong.” 

Spencer wraps his arm around you and tugs you in for a hug. You stumble back at the force of him and he sways you from one side to the other, keeping you up with him, frosting grass crunching under your shoes. The night is quiet here, coloured only by the shush of the wind and the stirring leaves of the woodlands. Spencer’s breath is by far the loudest sound, a huffing, happy thing that betrays his excitement. “I love you,” he says on a laugh. “It was nice to see you struggling to talk, for once, but you don’t need to be nervous with me. I love you.” Two admissions at once. You find yourself renewed.

“It was a one time thing, I assure you.” 

“Consider me assured,” he says, ferrying your face up for a warm kiss. 

[sturncrazy]

CABINFEVER:

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

(anyone else green)

warnings: SMUT!! nsfw 18+ (loss of virginity, unprotected + no pull out…assume ur on birth control)

authors note: love a little sweet smut matt moment 🫶 also imagine the world wasn’t falling apart and there was still snow 🤪 HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS ONE!!

summary: you and a group of your friends rent an airbnb cabin up in the mountains for a winter get away, but it’s short on beds. You settle for a bench and Matt takes the couch next to you, but things heat up when you get cold…

word count: 2,915 W

—————————————————————————

“HOLY FUCK! it’s FREEZING out” yelled Nick slamming the door behind him. He was the last one inside the cabin and join the rest of you in stomping the snow off your shoes and hanging up various layers of winter-wear. You and a group of 7 of your friends decided to rent an airbnb up in the mountains in New Hampshire for a week to have a cozy vacation. You planned to sled, go on winter walks, make cookies and cozy drinks, play games, and just enjoy being together away from the rest of the world. The only problem was not all of you going had a budget like the triplets, Larray, and Madi. even though they offered to cover for the rest of you, it didn’t seem fair. so you settled on a slightly more quaint cabin instead of a big mansion. the catch was that there were only three bedrooms. You were always easy going and determined that everyone else be happy, so you had made peace with the fact that you’d probably end up on a couch long ago.

“so who’s gonna be living room buddies with me, huh?” you questioned.

“guess that would be me” said Matt, with a sheepish smile.

No surprise, really. Matt was an angel to everyone, so of course he’d be the first to say he’d take the undesirable sleeping spot. you grinned back at him, maybe a little too much. You’d been close to the triplets since you were kids, but Matt had always been your favorite. You related to his quieter side and always had a soft spot for him. A soft spot that went deeper than you wanted to admit in the last few years. Matt was always good looking, but lately something felt different…even though you’d never tell him that.

“i can live with that” you attempted to joke. The living room was beautiful, but large and drafty. there were a few armchairs, but only one oversized couch. next to it was a big window that had a little nook fitted with pillows.

“you take the couch, yn” Matt said, gesturing with his head.

“wha—no way. then where will you sleep?”

“I dunno i’ll figure it out don’t worry bout it. I’ll grab a beanbag or make a pile on the floor” he said blowing you off

“Nuh-uh. no way. you take the couch, i’ll sleep on that window thing”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah a hundred percent”

“Mmmm okay, but if you wanna switch at any point just tell me okay seriously” the genuine concern in his wide blue eyes made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. truth be told, you really didn’t mind this set up because you’d be sleeping just a few feet away from him.

“Deal” you smiled back at him.

The group of you had a perfect evening. it was like something out of a hallmark movie, but by 2am everyone was going to sleep. Matt showered upstairs, which gave you time to get ready for bed and throw on your lame excuse for sleepwear—an oversized tshirt that hung to just above your knees. you’d never wished you’d overpacked and brought shorts more. you tried to cover up your exposed skin with blankets as you heard creaking from the steps. Matt trotted down in flannel pants and a black tank, hair still damp and clinging to his face from the shower. seeing him like that made your throat grow dry.

“Y’tired?” Matt asked, arranging his pillows on the couch so that his head would be by yours, your bodies creating a right angle on their separate resting spots.

“eh, not really. you?”

“nah, not so much. bit of a night owl lately, i guess.” he said, sitting down and beginning to rummage through his bag. you laughed.

“name a time in your life you’ve ever been a morning person?” you teased

“hey shhh i could be if i tried.” he shook his bag vigorously

“shit. think i forgot my phone charger”

“oh i have one, you can use it” you said hopping up to grab your stuff. you strode across the room towards your suitcase without thinking, but suddenly felt heat on the back of your neck like you were being watched. you glanced back at Matt and just barely caught him staring at your bare legs before he quickly looked away. you’d completely forgotten about your choice of outfit and felt embarrassment flush your cheeks.

“here y’go” you said shoving the wires in his direction, avoiding his eyes.

“uh thanks” he said, with equal avoidance. you reached to turn off the last light in the room in hopes that would drown out the awkwardness. Before you knew it the two of you were laughing and chatting away in the strained moonlight leaking in from the window. This went on for about 20 minutes before the chill coming from outside started to get to you. your teeth chattered slightly. mid sentence, Matt halted.

“what’s wrong?”

“oh nothing, just a little breezy here, it’s fine”

“what? you can’t sleep there then! you’ll get sick!” his protective nature was borderline heart melting.

“Matt c’mon. I’m not that weak, i’ll be fine. I’m not making you sleep here”

“Then share the couch with me at least”

his offer caught you off guard and you paused for a second, processing before answering.

“you sure?” you asked, unsteadily. another small moment of silence. was he regretting what he’d offered?

“yeah, of course” You detected a small crack in his voice.

“I don’t wanna crowd you—“ he cut you off

“y/n it’s fine seriously, just c’mhere. it’s just me, don’t be weird.” he answered, sounding almost more like he was trying to convince himself than you. you crept over to the couch. Matt was on his side, already holding his blanket up with his arm to give you a spot to slide into. at first you laid down face to face with him.

“hey” he said quietly, inches from you. you smiled up at him. it made your heart race to see him from this angle, this close. you were sure he could hear your heartbeat if you stayed like this a second longer, so you rolled over so your back was to him. matt made a funny noise, almost like he was clearing his throat. your knees hung off the couch slightly, so you backed up to not fall off. Matt let out a strained cough.

“Matt are you okay? you sound like—“ you started to turn your head to face him, and inadvertently twisted your hips against his body. you felt his hand latch onto your waist, halting it. he winced and let out a small hiss

“y/n please” tumbled out of his lips, his whole body going stiff.

“Matt what’s wrong? I—“ suddenly you became away of a hardness pressing against your lower back and ass. your breathing hitched. Matt was hard. and you could feel it. Matt was hard and was pressing against you, hell it had been caused by you.

“oh my god” you whispered.

“fuck y/n i’m so sorry—holy shit. this is awful. i feel disgusting. i never wanna make you uncomfortable i—“ he began to babble sounding on the verge of tears

“Matt no—“ he rolled onto his back looking up at the ceiling. you turned onto your side to face him.

“No, y/n. this is so bad-oh god. i was worried this would happen, i mean being anywhere near you i’d worry about that, but i thought i could control myself and fuck i’m so sorry“

“wait what do you mean you worried?”

“come on, y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. of course i’d worry, but you’re also one of my best friends so—“

“you think i’m beautiful?” matt paused and looked at you in the eye.

“are you joking, y/n?” you shook your head.

he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” you exhaled rockily, scanning his eyes.

“and i can’t believe this is how i’m telling you that or i did anything to make you feel—“

“Matty, stop” you said, putting a hand lightly to his chest. it heaved at your touch.

“you didn’t do anything wrong, at all. i just never knew you saw me the way the way i see you”

“y’mean you—?” you bit your lip and smiled at him, nodding. he let out an exhale of relief and excitement and smiled back at you. he inched closer to your face, hesitantly.

“can i kiss you?” you nuzzled your nose slightly against his.

“yes, Matt” he leaned the rest of the way in and gently pressed his warm pillowy lips against yours. the feeling was better than you could’ve ever imagined. he pulled away, not wanting to seem too eager or pushy, and waited for you. you glanced from his eyes to his mouth before pushing back against him. this kiss was different from the last. there was fire and passion to it. your lips began to meld together, creating a rhythm as his hands reached for your waist. you wrapped an arm around his neck and ran your hand through his hair, which resulted in a huffing of air from his mouth into yours. his tongue slid against your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you immediately granted. you pressed your lower half against his. he grunted and squeezed your hip. smiling against your lips he rasped out

“careful there, problem from earlier is not exactly gone yet” your stomach flipped

“good” you breathed out, pressing your bodies flush again. he looked at you wide eyed, his pupils dilating, before diving in for the heaviest kiss yet. you lifted your leg up slightly, wrapping it around him. the move caused your shirt to slide up to the top of your hip. matt ran his hand up your thigh and gripped your ass causing you to let out a small whine. he bit at your lip slightly and used this new hold on your lower half to move himself between your legs further and on top of you. he pulled away from you to take off his shirt and you felt heat electrify your body at the sight of him uncovered in the weak blueish light. he smiled at you shyly before kissing you again. one strong hand began to trail over the sensitive skin of your stomach, up your shirt, sending ripples of buzzing through your body as the tips of his hand approached your braless chest. Matt ran his fingers delicately over your nipples, hardening at his slightly cold touch. you shuddered.

“can i take this off?” he said, tugging at the hem. you nodded vigorously and helped him pull it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. you fought the urge to cover yourself as his eyes engulfed the sight of you.

“god you’re so perfect” he almost moaned out. you giggled and tightened your legs around his lower half, encouraging him back down to you gently. the feeling of his warm bare chest against yours made you let out a sigh. he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, breathing hot warm air against your sensitive skin before gently sucking and pulling through his teeth. you whimpered into him, wrapping your hands back into his hair. he retaliated by starting to grind his hips against your heat, the feeling of his hard on painfully present. your two most desperate spots only separated by your underwear and his pj bottoms.

“Matt—“ you moaned out

“hmmmm?” he hummed into your neck. you needed him in ways you couldn’t explain. you squirmed beneath him. he pulled away to look at you and raise an eyebrow.

“what is it, beautiful?” he cooed, making you flustered. you pushed your hips back up at him, unable to come up with words.

“ohh i see” he chuckled out. you felt a flash of embarrassment and tried to cover your hands with your face. he grabbed your wrists lightly and lowered them.

“Want me to make you feel good, ma?” he said softly into your ear as he dragged his hand down your stomach and to the waistband of your underwear. you whimpered, desire crying out for contract between your legs. he lowered his fingers over the thin cloth that covered your pussy and dragged them up and down, giving you a teasing amount of friction.

“more, Matty, please” you cried out. he gingerly pushed the fabric aside and ran his fingers along your dripping folds

“god you’re so wet” he whispered out in awe, looking down at you , hungrily. he seemed almost in a trace, but the torment was too much for you. you grabbed his wrist and guided his hand, positioning his finger tips at your entrance. his breathing shallowed as he looked up at you while inserting his digits deep into your core. you became a mess as Matt continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them upwards expertly.

“fuck i could watch you like this forever” he panted

“mmmm feels—ss—so good, matt”

“god you don’t know what you’re doing to me, ma” your walls clenched at the thought of his hard length. you reached down between your bodies and palmed at his crotch. he let out a groan. his impressively large hard on throbbed under your touch, straining against his pants.

“oh my god, y/n” he mumbled, closing his eyes. you’d never seen anyone look so sexy before.

“Matt, I want you” you gasped, without thought. his eyes flickered open, his pupils were blown.

“Are—are you sure?” he said, struggling to breathe.

“I’m sure” Matt reached to untie his drawstring. you watched him, closely, as he loosed his pants and lowered them. your mouth watered at the sight of his large rock hard dick slapping against his stomach, the tip already dripping precum. he leaned back over you and began to line himself up with your entrance. nerves shot through your body.

“wait matt”

“what? whats wrong? should i stop?” he said, looking up at you with worry

“No, no definitely not, i—i just—i haven’t done this before?”

“Oh” he said smiling with relief

“Are you sure you want to? we can wait i’m fine to wait. i don’t wanna do anything you’re not ready for”

“NO!” you said a little too eagerly “I really want to” you finished shyly

“Okay” he chuckled. He realigned himself and gave you a gentle kiss

“This is probably gonna hurt a bit, okay? we can stop any time you want to” you nodded and he began to push his tip slowly into your entrance. you cried out at the feeling of him stretching your insides so much. he paused for a moment.

“do you want to stop?” he said sweetly

“No. keep going” you said wincing. he pushed himself to the base of his cock and moaned at feeling you completely around him. he slowly began to slide himself in and out of your pussy. the pain started to turn into pleasure.

“go faster, matty, please” he listened and began to pick up his pace, creating a delicious rhythm and hitting your sweet spot deep inside of you with each thrust. you let out a string of curses and cries at the sensation.

“fuck you feel so good around my dick, baby”

“oh god don’t stop”

“you like that, sweet girl”

“yes—fuck yes—i like it so much”

“you’re so fucking perfect, princess. god i love being inside of you”

“Matt—oh my god—fuck—I—“ you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach as your buildup started to reach its peak.

“you gonna cum, sweetheart?” Matt lowered one of his hands to press on your lower stomach, where he was deep inside of you. your vision began to blur.

“Let go, baby. Cum for for me” your hearing buzzed and you saw flashes of white as you came undone. Your walls clenched around Matt’s cock causing his thrusts to become sloppy.

“fuck, gorgeous i’m close—where do you want me to—“ he panted out

“just keep going, matty” you cooed still coming down from your high

“wh—you-you sure?” he questioned fighting off his release

“yes, don’t stop. keep going for me”

“oh my ffu—god-yes—anything for you” he stuttered

“fuck baby i’m gonna cum”

“yeah? cum inside me, matty, please”

“OH GOD FUCK Y/N”

“i wanna feel you cum”

“OH—IM CUMMING—OH FUCK—“ Matt cried out thrusting into you, wildly. He halted deep inside you as he released hot spurts of his cum into your core. he collapsed, panting heavily. after a moment, he pulled out and quickly leaned back down to give you a kiss before reaching to grab you your shirt. you smiled at each other, sheepishly, as you got redressed. he pulled you tightly against him and ran his hand down the back of your head, soothingly.

“How was that?”

“Perfect” you mumbled into his chest, breathing him in.

“Yeah?” he chuckled into your hair. you nodded.

“I’d say so too.” he said.

“I’ve always dreamed of getting to hold you like this” he whispered

“really?”

“mhm”

“me too” he paused for a moment

“what would you think of maybe being something where we could always be like this?”

you pulled away to look at him and he grinned at you. you pulled him in for the biggest kiss you muster.

——————————————��——————————

why am i gonna cry? WHY CANT THE MEN I MAKE UP IN MY HEAD BE REAL.

[puppetmaster13u]

Anyway, I bring this back with ART! Technically sketches but still. A full body Selina and a headshot of tiny Damian while he's growing his hair out from the assassin-in-training safety cut. (Long hair + untrained hands with sharp swords and other weapons do not mix well lol)

(Not shown is the many necklaces & other bands of jewelry Selina constantly has lol)

Also can't remember who reblogged with the idea, but you are so right that Gothamites have a lot of skirt-esque clothing for when not actively working. (Goons and Rogues and the GCPD for example need the pants for the extra armor but on days off or when they're not working it's skirt time!)

Bet Galas are the same with dresses (have I mentioned those yet?). Doesn't matter if you're a guy a gal or something else, dresses are usually the norm, which is probably very confusing for any Outsiders joining in the galas lol.

Y'know now that I'm thinking about this once more. So the Gothamites do usually have organs similar to sharks with sensing electromagnetic forces and blood and changes in water pressure, all that. But I wonder if some might also have a basic echolocation of sorts too.

And we've talked about clothing and jewelry and such. But you know what else would be effected? Food.

Fish and dishes on the rawer side. Lots of things seasoned with what should be poison, and is to anyone else. But the Gothamites themselves are twice as poisonous and they think it's great. Some only do a sprinkling while others chose to use it like salt- everything is poisonous.

I bet there's even food trucks and smaller shops that pop up throughout the year that you can't find anywhere else. Fried pufferfish sticks- poison still included! Cuttlefish bagels! Stuffed potatoes & jellyfish! Nudibranch-themed waffles! Dumplings that look like eldritch seals! Anemone stews! Lemonade with sea krait venom! Vegetarian kelp cookies! Like their food has got to have shifted as their appetites have. (Batman & co have also definitely brought food/lunches to the bases and triple labeled their food to Not Eat. Though I wonder if anyone has done so anyway and had the worst time in the emergency room)

pspspsps @f4nd0m-fun I've brought Art :>

Mermay Special Prompt 3

“Are you kidding? No one goes to Gotham, that place is like,” Aquaman made a motion with his hand, a not-quite grimace on his face. “Like things should not be living in the water, like it should be impossible, and things should be dead, but they aren’t and it’s like, like the equivalent of an undead apocalypse over there!” 

Bruce rolled his eyes behind his cowl, taking a sip of his coffee as the others continued drinking. Socialize, they said, it’ll be fine they said. Well excuse him, but the waters weren’t that bad. Sure there were always dumped bodies, and chemicals from the rogue attacks, but it was far worse at one point.

One thing he’ll always be relieved for is how the… curse (thank you broken statuette back in the beginning of his vigilante career that fused with the other many curses of Gotham) made the people of Gotham actually care about the waters around them. 

Though also, he couldn’t help but thank anything that might be listening for the fact that the curse only interacted with Gotham waters, because losing legs with any risk of a drop of water would be downright annoying. 

“No dude, you don’t understand, no one goes there for a reason! That shit is horrific- someone saw a big thing with bits of rebar stabbed straight through it and still chased after a big alligator-thing!” Oh. Oh that had been him. Oops. Hopefully his kids didn’t find out about this, but they were probably already on the cameras. Dammnit. 

[starrywilliams]

guilty as sin? | abby anderson

“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”

warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)

notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭

cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x

wc: 1.8k

likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.

you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.

but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.

she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.

now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.

she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.

she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.

but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.

her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.

before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.

having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.

you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.

it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.

when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.

yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.

but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.

every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.

but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.

maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.

abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.

owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.

but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.

they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”

they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.

but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?

abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.

she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.

she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.

she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.

she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.

if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?

her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.

another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.

she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.

she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.

she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.

she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.

her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.

it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.

a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.

but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.

her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.

fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.

her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.

the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.

it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.

until next time.

[ghostgirl-22]

Somehow the conversation coming up that art doesnt know what he likes or knowing his own body because he always did what he was supposed to and no girl has felt the need or want to touch him because "hes the man and shouldnt need all that" "guys take care of the girl not the other way around" iykwim so patrick decides to help him figure it all out

How much pressure he likes, how wet he likes it, if he like gentle or nipping, gripping or biting.. where his erogenous zones are... kissing the sensitive parts of his inner thighs, what roles he likes to take, how he likes to be spoken to...?

U can ignore this part but Maybe pat asks "You never even tried doing it yourself? Like taken your time and see where your hands go?"

art says how would i be able to figure it out when i dont know where to start or what to do. Pat understands there probably a repression aspect to it aswell aand so they discover art together with pat guiding him through this new world/exploration

Omg! Your ask is literally ten times better than what I wrote but I love you for letting me try it dear nonnie <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Basically this is just yearning and longing and porn with the thinnest of plots. So Artrick core.

——

It all comes out over holiday break. Art is staying with Patrick, it’s a few days after Christmas and Art’s parents are already busy with fundraisers and meetings. To them it doesn’t matter how Art gets back to Stanford, as long as he gets back so they could care less that Patrick keeps him for a few days.

They’re up too late. Patrick is lying on the floor with his laptop, looking up the scheduled matches for this season and who he’ll likely be playing. Art has taken over his bed, flipping channels on the television, going back and forth between American Pie on TBS and ESPN. Patrick is certain the sex conversation starts because they’re watching American Pie but what starts out as Art trying to get more information about Patrick’s sex life with Tashi leads to Art admitting he’s never really explored what he likes in bed.

“What do you even mean, explore?” Art asks, suddenly self conscious. He’s such a little perfectionist, checked off all the boxes, straight As, Ivy League college, division one tennis player, first girlfriend at the “right” age, lost it (many times) before high school finished. Patrick can tell it’s frustrating him to feel like he missed something. “Do you mean… touching myself?”

That’s really all it takes to divert Patrick’s attention. He shuts his laptop and sits up, gazing at Art. “Yeah jerking off is one part,” Patrick says, “But I meant what do you like?”

“I like having sex,” Art shrugs, “it’s simple. What else is there to explore?”

“Oh come on,” Patrick smirks. “It’s anything but simple. Do you even know your favorite position?”

Art rubs his arm, its so obvious he’s never even thought about it. “I don’t really… I mean um… I like… you know… the usual way.”

“Yeah that checks out,” Patrick says teasingly and Art’s gaze darkens.

”Why? How do you fuck Tashi?”

Patrick grins because he knew it was coming. “Nice try.”

Art huffs an irritated sigh. “Whatever man. Just because I’m not trying every position or whatever. I mean what difference does it make? She still…everybody still leaves happy.” Art picks up the remote and switches channels again like he’s done with the conversation but his skin is starting to flush.

He’s so easy. Patrick decides to push a little more. He shoves Art’s legs over and settles next to him on the full sized bed. Art just sits up, crossing his legs, he rests back on his palms.

Maybe it’s because Patrick helped him with his first sexual experience or maybe it’s because he has some kind of corruption kink but he loves whenever their relationship shifts back around to this show-me-how dynamic.

Art is so good at walking this line of self delusion that he’s this perfectly good straight boy… but when he needs something from Patrick. Usually experience. That’s when the lines start to blur. It’s a fucking mess but that’s exactly where Patrick lives.

“Look dude it’s not even about that.” Patrick continues. “It’s about… you remember when we were kids. You were so scared you’d suck at kissing so I—”

“Yeah I was a dumb kid,” Art interrupts quickly.

“Sure but you practiced…” Patrick points out. “And you’re a really good kisser now,” he says, smirking. Art looks away.

Patrick sighs. “I’m just saying if you play around… and learn what you really like. Sex can be really, really fucking good. Besides that’s half the fun of it anyway, right?”

Art chews his bottom lip and then he sighs. “It’s just… I mean I’m a guy… I thought I was supposed to look things up. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“What did you look up?”

“I don’t know, how to put on a condom? Only the first time. And like there was this article about unhooking different types of bra straps. Shut up,” he adds, shoving Patrick gently because he can’t help laughing at that.

“Okay how about this?” Patrick says, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. He leans back against the headboard, “Do you like it slow? Or do you prefer going fast?”

”Both,” Art says. “I like whatever she likes to do.”

“You don’t have a preference? What about when you’re touching yourself?”

Art plays with his tongue, rolls it back and forth in his mouth as he’s thinking. “Slower.” He says after a while. “Like… when I get the chance I like it…” He glances at Patrick and then looks determinedly back at the tv. “Slower.”

Patrick takes a breath and tries to slow himself down too but he can already feel his cock starting to fill up. “Okay what about touch? What makes you feel good? What gets you up?”

Art frowns. “I um… I don’t—- what about you? Where do you—” he sighs and then shakes his head. “Patrick, this is ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t, what’s ridiculous is you really don’t know what you like.”

Art is gripping the remote too tightly. “I know what I like,” he says.

“What?” Patrick gazes at him.

“Lots of stuff,” Art says.

“Like?”

Art rubs his thighs, Patrick looks down, following the anxious movement.

“I know something you like,” Patrick says after Art doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You want me to show you?”

Art starts playing with his tongue again, he takes a deep breath and nods and Patrick sits up so he’s close.

“You like it when someone kisses you here,” he brushes his knuckles along the junction between Art’s neck and collar bone and he shivers, pulling his shoulder up towards his ear. Patrick considers going in for the kiss but getting Art in a headspace is a delicate thing. It can lead everywhere and nowhere depending on how Patrick handles him.

And he knows Art… fuck… apparently he knows things about Art’s body that he’s not even aware of. This messy little “friendship” is gonna drive him crazy.

“Can I—“ Patrick lets his fingertips settle along the nape of Art’s neck where his curly hair is fine and baby soft. Art closes his eyes momentarily and takes a little breath.

”You like that too,” Patrick says.

“Yeah,” Art says softly.

Patrick licks his bottom lip to keep himself from licking at the flush on Art’s throat. “Do you like being on top? Or on the bottom?” Patrick asks, carefully.

Art opens his eyes and bites his lip again before taking a deep breath. “I think I prefer it when she… when she’s on top.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know… it’s hot. I mean…” he looks at Patrick. “I like looking at her tits when she….” He looks down shyly. Such a stupidly, pretty boy.

Patrick smirks. “So you're a boob guy.”

“So are you,” Art says, like he’s been caught doing something bad and doesn’t want to be the only one to get in trouble.

Patrick shrugs. “I love everything. I’m more of an ass man. But if you want to kill me show me a great pair of legs… I mean… fuck.”

Art rubs his thighs again. “I really like Tashi’s legs.”

“I bet you do,” Patrick smirks, leaning in. “What about you? You ever let her touch your chest?” He teases his fingers over Art’s t-shirt where his pecs are. Art gasps lightly as Patrick pinches just the right spot and the nipple starts to harden immediately. Patrick circles it lightly and Art shifts on the bed, pressing one hand into his lap and pushing Patrick away with the other. “Fuck no. That’s weird right?” Art asks, his voice a little pitchy.

God he fucking loves it. Patrick wants to push him down on the bed. But he sits on his hands to make himself behave. “What’s weird about it?” Patrick asks.

“I mean… I’m a guy. Why would she want to touch my… my nipples.” Art huffs a nervous little laugh.

“To make you feel good,” Patrick says softly.

Art licks his lips idly and lets out another breath.

“What about grip… do you like it soft?” Patrick asks.

Art nods. “Yeah.”

“This?” Patrick grips his wrist gently. “Or this?” He asks gripping a little tighter. “Or?” He grips tighter still, until Art squeezes his eyes shut.

“The… the middle… the second one.”

“Just right,” Patrick lets up on his grip. “What about here?” Patrick trails his fingertips…slowly… down Arts tummy.

“Stop,” Art breathes as Patrick’s fingers reach the elastic of his boxers.

Patrick shrugs, letting go of the elastic and smirking. He could do this all night. Touch and poke and prod and feel. He knows it’s turning Art on. He’s flushed so fucking beautifully, worrying his lips all red, squirming on the mattress.

“What about…” Patrick sits up on his knees and plays his fingers into Art's hair. Art looks up at him eagerly. Eyes fully dilated, lips parted, breathing shallow.

God.

Such a fucking pretty, pretty boy.

All Patrick wants now is whatever the fuck he can get away with. “Can I kiss you soft?” He asks as he presses his lips to Art’s mouth. Art nods and opens up, sliding his tongue into Patrick’s mouth right away, wanting it. Even though they’d only ever kissed a handful of times, ever since the first time their lips touched Patrick could tell that for Art kissing would be a Thing with a capital T. Patrick caresses the side of Art’s throat and feels it as he shivers. He listens to the way Art’s breathing. So aware of how Art’s body is moving. He’s opening up, he’s uncrossed his legs, knees pulled up, he’s grabbing at Patrick’s t-shirt trying to pull him closer as Patrick starts to deepen the kiss. Pressing his tongue more firmly into Art’s mouth. Art really likes that. He starts gasping, nibbling on Patrick’s lip before pushing his own tongue back in. When he starts moaning Patrick pulls back. His heart is railing against his ribcage and he’s losing himself. His hips are pressed in between Art’s legs feeling everything. Certain Art is feeling everything.

”Fuuckk,” Patrick breathes. He flops onto the bed resting his head on his pillow. If he were with Tashi right now he’d probably be halfway inside her already. Everything with her is impatient, horny and desperate. Everything with Art is pleading, anxious and pretending he doesn’t want it as badly as he fucking does.

Art is breathless, lips kiss swollen, he scoots back to get distance. “This is… so…”

“You like dirty talk?” Patrick interrupts.

Art smiles a bit and shrugs. “Kinda.”

“What’s kinda?” Patrick asks.

Art kicks his legs, lightly. “I like… I like when she tells me how she can’t wait for me to fuck her…”

Patrick sits up on his elbows. “Like I’m so wet for you baby, can’t wait to feel that big dick inside me?” Patrick says softly.

”Jesus Patrick,” Art says, covering his face.

“What?” Patrick says, smiling slightly at the reaction.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're wet,” Art whispers.

“So what do you want me to say?” Patrick says, he gets up again, abruptly crawling back into Art’s personal space. Art reacts at the sudden movement by opening his mouth… Patrick can see his little pink tongue, desperate for another kiss.

Art is gazing at him, pupils so large the rings of blue are barely visible. They’re so close, their lips are almost touching when Art licks his mouth. A horny little mess, if Patrick tried it now he thinks Art might let him fuck.

Patrick smiles and then leans against Art’s ear. “Can’t wait till you fill me up and fuck me good baby…” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. “I can fuck you good.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna go insane.

Art’s breathing starts to pick up again.

“Can you fill me up and stretch me… fuck me so hard I can feel you for days…” Patrick whispers.

“Mmhm,” Art hums eagerly, he starts lapping and sucking along Patrick’s throat, it’s so fucking yummy.

Patrick rubs his hand lightly along the inside of Arts thigh, trying to graze his knuckles along Arts cock. Art hitches another breath.

“That feel good?” Patrick asks gently.

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly.

“You like it when she goes down on you before you fuck her?” Patrick asks.

“Yes, mm, yes,” Art says eagerly, shifting on the bed so Patrick can get between his legs. It’s so slutty the way he opens up so quickly, knowing what Patrick wants to do. Patrick presses a kiss along the inside of his upper thigh.

“Mm,” Art whines, and Patrick’s sure he’s just found another sensitive spot. He kisses it again, this time sucking at the skin there and Art moans properly. Patrick grins and starts palming him through his shorts. His own cock feels so fucking heavy. He’s thought about fucking Art since the first time he watched him nut all over himself but right now he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get this.

“You gotta tell me how you want it to feel,” Patrick says looking up at him. “Can you talk me through it?”

“What if your… what if we get caught?” Art whispers.

“Everyone is asleep by now I promise,” Patrick says.

”Are you sure?”

“Fucking yes.” Patrick says impatiently, though if he’s honest he wouldn’t give a fuck at this point if they were all right outside his bedroom door. He can’t help himself, he tugs Art’s shorts down to see it.

He’s still barely got any hair there and he’s definitely still blonde everywhere. He’s so hard, his cock is so pretty and pink and full to the tip, pearls of cum dripping. Patrick laps it up and Art hisses.

“Talk to me,” Patrick whispers. “You like it wet?”

“Fuck,” Art breathes. “I mean yes. Yeah I want it wet. Oh god.”

Patrick fills his mouth.

“Oh— oh— fuck—-“ Art groans, he’s so loud. His hips stutter but Patrick holds him down, swirls his tongue around, doesn’t swallow anything, just drools all over it. Arts toeing the bed, trying to push up. “Mm fuck your tongue can you… can you do it faster…” Art moans. So Patrick moves his tongue faster.

He doesn’t ask, maybe because he’s too far gone but he teases his fingertips up along Art’s entrance and the sounds that Art makes in response, make Patrick shiver.

“Patrick,” Art gasps, his body is practically vibrating. Patrick presses his fingers in a little deeper and he moans like the boys do when Patrick’s on those websites in the middle of the night with the volume down low. But Art can’t be quiet… and Patrick doesn’t want him to stop.

“Patrick! Patrick I can’t—- I think I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum— holy shit—“ Art wasn’t even done saying Patrick’s name when Patrick’s mouth started filling up. And boy does it fucking fill up. Patrick’s swallowing, and swallowing and swallowing. He’s so greedy he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of it. Art is whining breathlessly when Patrick finally lets it drop from his mouth, still so shiny and red and wet, twitching helplessly. Patrick just stares at it, dizzy for a minute before he drops onto the bed next to Art and reaches between his legs and starts touching himself.

Art sighs and pulls his shorts up properly before rolling over. He puts his hand where Patrick’s is and starts helping. “What about you? Art asks softly. “What do you like?”

A/N: Sorry this took hundreds of years my love. I wanted to do better but unfortunately got lots to catch up on so it shall be good enough <3

[thatfreshi]

Can I request Astarion x reader and he drinks from u when your standing and your legs buckle and you start to collapse from the blood loss but he catches you and Carries you to your bedroll and takes care of you?

Forgive me if it's rough, still trying to figure out the speech patterns!

Recommended Song: Ivy - SALES

It usually wasn’t often that Astarion asked to feed on you. Sadly, resources have been scarce, wild animals included. Anytime Lae’zel is out scouting she tries to bring something back for him, but to no avail. Recently, he had been asking quite often, and there is always an air of guilt in his question. 

“I’m sorry to ask my love, I just worry the others will see me differently, if I were to feed on one of them.”

It’s not as if your other companions aren’t aware of his situation, or the fact that you have to satiate him every once in a while. You think he simply feels like a burden, having to ask people for the very thing that sustains him. He just feels a little less like a burden when he asks you.

“Of course dear, no need to be sorry.”

You’ve gotten used to how this goes, as you’ve been travelling together for quite some time, and you and Astarion got smitten rather quickly. He’s always quite gentle, even if it does hurt at first. Instead of sitting down however, you continue working on stitching up a piece of your sleep-wear. With powerful magic from the likes of Gale and Shadowheart, you think such minute things could be fixed easily, but alas, they still require a realistic solution.

While you’re busy putting to work the simple stitch he taught you, Astarion moves to drink, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Many would think that the act of being drained of your own blood would be, well, terrifying, but something about it is quite intimate, heartwarming even. You don’t even really think about how your veins start running cold, how you start to feel much worse than normal. Then, you’re on the ground, needle and thread along with you. 

“Darling! I apologize, I should’ve had you lie down first, I should’ve-” 

He cuts off his own words as he scrambles to think. You’re still not fully there, but you want to tell him you’re fine. Sadly, eyes can’t always tell all. Even your parasite seems too drained to connect with him. When you regain some of your senses, you see that Astarion has brought you back to your bedroll, muttering something to himself, pacing the tent.

“I could’ve waited, I would’ve been fine. I-”

He pauses, realizing you’ve started to stir.

“Tav, darling, are you alright?”

You try sitting up, and he quickly moves to support your back, wrapping his arm around you waist.

“Yeah… yeah I’m okay.”

“I apologize, I knew it was a risk to feed on you again so soon. I put you in a terrible position, asking you like that.”

You reach to put your hand over his.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve become so nonchalant about it, I should’ve been much more considerate of the circumstances.”

He’s silent, trying to find another way to blame himself. The truth is, both of you were quite tired from the recent adventuring, and weren’t thinking straight. 

“I’ll tell them all we should stay at camp for another day. Or perhaps they can journey back to the Grove and we can stay for another evening.”

You tighten your grasp on his hand until he finally make eye contact with you.

“Astarion, it’s fine, truly. I’ll be fine tomorrow, come morning.”

You smile at him, despite the nausea caught in your throat. He feels bad enough, no use in making it worse. 

“Here, come lie with me.”

You meet the ground once again, and he joins you shortly after. He still has that look, that dreary mist across his eyes. Instead of trying to tell him in words, you nestle into his side, wrapping yourself around him, a way of saying ‘I still love you, no matter what.’ He leaves a kiss on your forehead, and finally lets the tension go. You close your eyes soon after, exhausted. Astarion never tells you, but he stayed awake and by your side the entire night, unmoving, just in case.

[milliesfishes]

hihihi !! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests but i was wondering if you could write something with either young!president!coryo or academy!coryo helping reader with nighttime anxiety fall asleep? just soothing, gentle words filled with fluff and love. LOVE U MILLIE!❤️

LOVE YOU MWAH I'm so sorry I took forever to do this hehe

౨ৎ꣑ৎcoriolanus when you have nighttime anxiety౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

The pink silken strap of your nightdress kept falling off your shoulder, and at this point you didn't even bother to fix it. Staring at yourself in the clean gold rimmed mirror, you tried to breathe in. There were no windows in this closet, but you knew it was dark out. Coriolanus would have drawn the curtains in the bedroom by now, and it would only ease you a little bit.

For years now you'd dreaded earth after dark, something about the day's end propelling you into a world of worry that you could hardly escape. Crawling on your belly, you tried to outrun it. But the more you struggled, the worse it became.

"Darling?"

You turned your head at Coriolanus' call, swallowing and breathing in softly. Maybe it would be better tonight. Maybe you'd be able to slide under the covers with nary a feeling other than your husband's arms around you. Smoothing your pretty nightdress one more time, an attempt to get excited for bed, you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror. It would have to do.

Making your way into the next room, you tiptoed across the plush carpet, making your way into the waiting cradle of his arms. He pressed on your back, settling you into his body. "Just relax."

It had been a hard thing to hide from your husband- your night-caused fear. He'd crept within you the way ivy crawled up a garden wall. You made no move to trim it.

Coriolanus' chin rested atop your head, and he breathed in. The tension in his body seemed to diffuse, and you nuzzled into him, rubbing his chest. "How was your day today?"

"Fine." He brushed it off, seeming more interested in smoothing down your hair. "Long. Busy. How was yours, sweetheart?"

"I read a little bit," you mused, the conversation distracting you. The knot in your stomach began to unravel. "And...I went shopping.'

"Did you get this?" he murmured, pinching the soft material of your nightdress.

"Uh huh." It had been his suggestion. That maybe if you had something new, going to bed would seem nicer. It seemed there was no end to the money Coriolanus was willing to spend to help you get better.

He kissed your forehead. "I like it."

"Mhm." You slid your hand under his sleep shirt, splaying fingers out over his bare skin. The feeling soothed your thumping heart, and You shut your eyes, going limp over his chest.

Always attentive, Coriolanus guided your head so one ear rested over his heart. He raked his fingers gently through your hair, and you felt the press of his nose to your temple. "I've got you." He secured his free arm over your waist. "Whatever you're worrying about, I can make it go away."

You did feel invincible there, in his arms. Terror gripped you like a vice, and suddenly he was swooping in, an angel backlit by fear's tight fingers around your neck. He pried each one away, nursing the awful red marks they left. One look into his eyes told you how safe it was here. That everything horrible that dared darken your doorstep would cower once his shadow loomed over it. That was his power. But even if he had nothing, penniless with not a title to his name, you would feel just as protected.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" he breathed, and you could hear that he was half-asleep.

"Are you going to be home?" you asked, feeling yourself start to drift off. it was a sensation you welcomed, and in Coriolanus' hold all the negatives that came with it dissolved in the net of the bubble around you both.

"Yes," he affirmed, lovingly stroking your hair, the repetition lulling your mind. His voice was soft, words pushed together. Whenever he got like this it always made you smile. The cold-hearted president of Panem, sleepy and refusing to let go of his wife. You loved him this way. You loved him every way. "It's been too long since we've had a day together, I think. What would you like to do?"

Smoothing a hand up his side, you shifted your head on his chest, the corners of your lips turning up as you thought. "The rose gardens are in bloom. I want to take a walk."

He kissed the top of your head. "Done."

Daydreams filled your head, of walking through the sea of roses, mostly red, with a great deal of pink he'd had planted specifically for you. And before you knew it, your eyes were growing heavy. Your last thought before you drifted off was the realization that he'd tricked you. Sleep was creeping up your spine when you hadn't wanted it to.

But you didn't mind one bit.

[angelyuji]

yandere bruce wayne headcanons

yandere bruce wayne x gn!reader

warnings: yandere behavior, gross guy bruce wayne, kidnapping, stalking, power imbalance, rich guy uses his rich guy money to manipulate reader, creepy guy being a creepy guy lol (lmk for anything i might've missed i am half-asleep)

im thinking ill write some actual fanfics for him soon, idk what TO write tho...

STALKKKERRRR STALEKER SJALKER STALKER!!!

he is a creature of the night so u KNOW he’s watching you from a rooftop next to ur apartment

think of the scene in the batman when he’s watching Selina undress and stuff yeah hes a peeper (hes so fine i love bruce)

my man doesn’t have any superpowers BUT hes literally the freaking batman, he has cameras all over gotham so i promise he has eyes on you at all times

he’ll watch over you and make sure ur not gonna get mugged by some loser with a gun or get caught up in a joker/ivy/freeze/whomever scheme

like hes stalking you

he knows everything abt u too with WE and the Batcomputer (lol) he’ll have all ur personal info on file, ur twitter acc, your Instagram, any social media, literally everything on a separate file that is locked behind multiple passwords and eye scans (especially if we’re looking at bruce with kids like he knows they’d open the file and snoop)

if we’re looking at pattinson!batman/early years, he’s probably gonna write abt u in his diary journal (hes just a silly little guy)

he’ll try to give you a job at wayne enterprises to keep an eye on you as bruce (obvi becuz he cant be batman 24/7) (job depends on your experience and degree) (he’ll want u as a personal assistant or something but depending on your area of expertise… you’re probably not gonna accept lol)

if u do accept for a position as assistant/secretary, he’ll have your desk 3 ft away, he’ll be calling u into his office just to talk, basically like sort of training u to be his wife (get coffee, make lunch/get lunch, invite u to be his plus one for galas) all that jazz, he’ll flirt with u but ur gonna be like “oh that’s just brucie wayne being brucie wayne, but once u get comfortable in ur role, he’ll start making moves like hand on the lower back, pressing against u in any situation possible, he’ll never seem creepy (yet) but it’ll make u slightly uncomfortable considering he’s ur boss.

i can think of 2 possibilities that could occur

1. creepiest boss ever. he’ll order u how to dress to be his assistant/how to dress at galas (skimpy dresses, short skirts, tight pants, tight fitting dress shirts that exposes everything, shit like that), he’ll LEER at u like bruce will purposely drop stuff and make u pick it up so he can watch u bend over. like the worst. you’ll get tired of this behavior and quit and bruce will get angry and kidnap u

2. still creepy but not as bad. more like extravagant gifts, vacations, parties. he’ll still flirt and try to have as much physical contact with u as possible but he knows where to draw the line. you wouldn’t quit cuz yk great pay, okay boss. but like his feelings would get too much to contain and he’ll kidnap u in the end anyway

if i had to diagnose the batmans i care abt id sayyyy 1 is Affleck, 2 is bale, and Pattinson is a mix of both. comic batman has so many different writers and each run has a different personality for him saur depends on the writer lmao

u wouldn’t be able to date cuz of yk…….. WE rules………… but he’ll get tired of that taboo/secret relationship bs pretty quickly and just kidnap u

if u don’t accept a position as an assistant/secretary, he gets it but more than likely, his feelings for u will intensify and he’ll end up taking you to keep at wayne manor

before getting into when ur stuck at wayne manor, lets break down bruce’s thoughts abt u

he has put u on a PEDESTAL

ur amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, u. can. do. no. wrong.

in his mind, ur the light to his darkness

alfred totally enables him and if we’re talking dilf bruce, the kids learn from him so they just assume this is what love is, kidnapping and manipulation

you’d adjust to life at wayne manor (not quickly but yk mf is RICH, ur gonna be treated so well once u understand that u cant leave)

bruce wouldn’t torture u but he’d pavlov u for sure

you would only be given comfort and relief when ur around him/good to him

if ur not good, then he’d probably keep u locked up in the batcave or in any of the many empty rooms at the manor

bruce wayne is the most powerful and influential person, ANDD has THE most powerful people on the planet as his best friends… you’re stuck with him babes

[keehomania]

Ure so funny because someone asks for a smutty one shot and probably expects the bare minimum but u go all out with a plot and freak shit 😂 With that being said...do your best with a Mark smut shot I can't wait to see what u do with it

MARK LEE (마크리) — DO AS I SAY (18+)

✧ MDNI!

your university had a way of swallowing you whole, but you welcomed it. it wasn't that you were detached or indifferent, but you had mastered the art of restraint. no one saw the tears you never cried, or the secrets you cradled like fragile relics. this place—the sprawling campus of glass and ivy—was a sanctuary for people like you. people who wore masks, hid their sins behind designer handbags, and attended charity events only to gossip about who slept with whom. it was a twisted ecosystem, where loyalty was paper-thin and friendships were only as deep as the amount of money spent over dinner.

you had a circle, too. a group of friends who mirrored you in more ways than you liked to admit. their laughter was loud, their wallets even louder. it was always about excess—who could drink more, who had the latest luxury item, who flaunted their wealth the loudest. but you? you were different. you were quieter, more calculated. you didn't feel the need to shout for attention because it came to you naturally. people were drawn to you, inexplicably, like you held a secret they were desperate to know.

mark lee was one of them, an outsider who somehow managed to worm his way into your world. he was loud, confident in a way that made you pause. he wasn't like the others, with their inherited wealth and privilege. mark had clawed his way into this school, thanks to a scholarship he barely mentioned. the scholarship wasn't just any grant; it was paid for by your father, a token of goodwill to silence a scandal at mark's previous school. money exchanged hands, victims were silenced, and mark became part of this elite institution—an unspoken debt hanging between him and your family.

he was everything you shouldn't want. his presence was a direct contrast to the smooth, polished edges of your life. he didn’t fit into the mold of your carefully curated existence, yet you were drawn to him, inexplicably, maddeningly. his rough edges intrigued you, like something you wanted to smooth out, only to find yourself cut by them instead. and donghyuck, your boyfriend of ten years, could see it. he always did. he watched as your eyes lingered a little too long on mark’s frame, noticed the way you tilted your head just so when mark spoke to you.

donghyuck was a puzzle you had long since stopped trying to solve. your relationship had become a habit, a well-worn routine you couldn’t break free from, not even when your heart wasn't in it anymore. he argued too much, pushing you with his opinions until all you felt was exhaustion. you stayed because it was easier. because after a decade together, walking away seemed like an impossible task. but he wasn’t blind, he saw the way mark fascinated you, and surprisingly, he didn’t mind. in fact, he indulged you, watching as you and mark explored the boundaries of desire that donghyuck himself couldn’t reach.

it was twisted, but you all enjoyed it in your own way. donghyuck took a strange, almost voyeuristic pleasure in watching you with mark, hating himself for liking it yet never stopping you. mark, for all his rough edges, reveled in the attention, in being the object of your desire. and you? you simply allowed yourself to drift further into the tangled mess of it all, feeling nothing but a hollow satisfaction.

but secrets have a way of catching up. no matter how carefully you tried to bury them, they clawed their way to the surface, desperate to be seen. that night—on the eve of the end of your first year, when champagne flowed like water and celebrations ran late into the night—everything began to unravel. a girl, one you hadn’t even noticed before, had stolen from you. not something trivial like a necklace or a piece of clothing, but something far more dangerous. a piece of evidence.

evidence that could send your father to prison, the same man who had orchestrated mark’s scholarship, the same man who controlled more than half the people in that room. she had stolen it, and you hadn’t even realized it until it was too late. but donghyuck had. he always did.

the locker room was dimly lit, a mix of fluorescent light and shadows that stretched across the cold, tiled floor. you pressed mark against the wall, his breath hot against your neck as your lips met in a bruising kiss. his hands roamed your body, desperate and needy, while your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, never close enough. the taste of him—of adrenaline, of something forbidden—ignited a fire in your veins, pushing you deeper into the moment.

“god, you taste like trouble,” he breathed against your lips, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. his voice was low, rough, and it made you feel powerful, like you were in control of something wild and untamed. “you like that, don’t you?” you whispered back, your lips brushing the skin of his jawline as your hands traveled down his chest. his pulse quickened beneath your touch, and you reveled in the way his breath hitched.

“i like everything about you,” he groaned, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you even closer, your bodies flush against each other. his words were almost inaudible between the sounds of your heavy breathing, the slick sound of lips on skin, and the soft moan that escaped him as your hand trailed lower, teasing. “you’re obsessed,” you teased, your voice a breathless whisper against his lips. you could feel the weight of your words sinking in, could feel the way his body responded to every little move you made, like he was entirely under your spell.

mark’s response was a muffled curse, his lips crashing into yours with a renewed hunger. his hands slipped under your shirt, fingers tracing lines along your skin that left you burning for more. his touch was demanding, urgent, but just as you were about to let yourself get lost in him, a noise cut through the air—a sharp, metallic clang that echoed through the locker room. you both froze.

your eyes darted to the source of the sound, and you felt your blood run cold. donghyuck stood at the far end of the room, a piece of metal glinting in his hands. for a moment, it didn’t register. your mind was still clouded by the heat of the moment, but then you saw her. the girl. she lay crumpled on the floor, her body still and lifeless, blood pooling beneath her head. the piece of metal donghyuck held was stained red, the same red that dripped onto the floor in a steady, sickening rhythm. your breath caught in your throat as the scene unfolded in front of you, surreal and horrifying all at once.

donghyuck, calm as ever, looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, as if nothing had happened, he casually tucked the metal back into his pocket, his movements almost practiced. without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the girl’s body behind like a discarded thought. the room felt suffocatingly quiet in his absence.

mark’s expression shifted from confusion to sheer horror, his face pale as his eyes darted between you and the lifeless body. you could see it in the way his hands trembled, in the way his chest heaved like he was struggling to breathe. “we have to—” his voice cracked, barely a whisper. “we have to tell someone.” you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, but not from fear. no, you were already calculating. donghyuck had done this for you. for your father. and if anyone found out, if anyone so much as breathed a word, it would be over. for all of you.

mark’s horror-stricken eyes remained on the body, unmoving, wide with disbelief. the girl’s blood had stained the sterile white tiles, her body lifeless in the shadow of donghyuck’s impulse. but you didn’t flinch. you didn’t blink. you didn’t even tremble. “no,” you said, your voice calm, unnervingly so. your gaze never left him, a slow, deliberate exhale escaping your lips. mark blinked, stunned by your composure, his brow furrowed in confusion. his chest heaved with frantic breaths, but all he got from you was a cold, calculated stare, one that sent chills down his spine. he opened his mouth to speak again, but you didn’t give him the chance. with swift, silent precision, you took his wrist, dragging him away from the scene before he could protest, the metallic tang of blood still thick in the air.

through the narrow hallways of the locker room, you led him, the sound of your heels echoing off the walls in rhythm with his shallow breathing. he stumbled behind you, still in shock, disoriented by the events that had just unfolded, by the way you hadn’t even reacted. his mind screamed at him to do something—to call for help, to alert someone—but his body refused to obey. instead, he followed you blindly, mesmerized by your grip, your unwavering control. you stopped only when you reached the deeper part of the locker room, where the maze of lockers gave way to a long wooden bench. you pushed him down onto it, your gaze heavy and unreadable, your silence more commanding than any words could ever be. mark collapsed onto the bench, his knees trembling beneath the weight of it all.

he should have been thinking about the dead girl, about the crime he’d just witnessed, about donghyuck standing there with that bloody piece of metal. but he wasn’t. he couldn’t. all he could focus on was you—the way your dress clung to your body, the heat radiating off you as you stood over him, unbothered, in control. his heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn’t fear that fueled it. you smiled, but it was a shallow, practiced thing, a facade that you wore like armor. you bent down slowly, your fingers threading through his hair, soft and gentle, almost tender as you tugged him closer. his face pressed into your stomach, and though there was fabric between you, he could feel the warmth of your skin, the press of your body against him. his breath hitched, his mind a mess, but all he could think about was you.

“you love me, don’t you, baby?” the words left your lips in a soft purr, so smooth and calculated that it made him dizzy. mark’s lips parted in shock, his thoughts spinning. he should have been focused on the horror of the moment, but the feel of your body against him, the scent of your skin, drowned everything out. he couldn’t think straight. his voice stammered out, broken, unsure. “yeah, of course i do.” your smile widened, a sweet, almost cruel thing, as you lifted his face from your stomach. the grip on his hair didn’t loosen, though. it stayed firm, your fingers weaving through his locks like you were in control of him now. his pulse raced beneath your touch, his body aching with a need he didn’t want to acknowledge, not now.

“that’s a relief,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as you straightened up, stepping back just enough to let his eyes roam over you. his breath caught in his throat as you peeled the dress off with slow, deliberate movements, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap at your feet. you stood before him in nothing but a bra and panties, your skin bathed in the low light of the locker room, your confidence unwavering. he couldn’t tear his gaze away, every inch of you captivating, intoxicating. his hands twitched, desperate to touch, but frozen by the weight of what had just happened.

your eyes glittered with satisfaction as his gaze devoured you. you took a step closer, lowering yourself to him, and your lips found his in a kiss that was hot and heavy, filled with a heat that made him dizzy. his hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your tongues met, each movement deliberate, each touch fueling the fire inside him. he groaned against your lips, your bodies pressed tight together. you pulled away slowly, your lips brushing his cheek as you whispered, “that’s why you can’t tell anyone about what you just saw.”

his expression faltered, confusion clouding his mind as the reality of the situation tried to claw its way back into focus. his breath hitched as the gruesome image of the girl flashed through his mind again, but the sight of you, so close, so irresistible, was enough to dull the horror. “he killed her,” mark rasped, his voice barely audible. you didn’t flinch. Instead, you took his hands in yours, guiding them over your body, letting his palms brush over the swell of your breasts, down your waist, over the curve of your hips, until they rested on your ass. the heat of your skin, the softness of your body, drowned out any rational thought. “yeah, shame on him,” you purred, pausing just long enough to let him squeeze, to feel the weight of you in his hands.

you leaned in, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, “but we can’t let him go to jail. it’s over for me if he does.” you shifted slightly, letting his hands stay on you, letting him feel every inch of you. “and you don’t wanna lose me, do you?” the thought hit him like a punch to the gut. the idea of losing you, of you slipping away, made his stomach twist painfully. he didn’t know if it was the intensity of his feelings or the heat of the moment, but the thought of it broke him, made him weak. he shook his head, his voice barely a whisper as he answered, “i don’t—i won’t tell.”

relief washed over you, and it showed in the way you smiled, the way you pressed your lips to his once more. this time, the kiss was hungrier, more demanding. it felt like a reward, like a promise sealed with heat and desire, and mark let himself sink into it, unable to resist you, unable to think of anything else but you.

your fingers grazed his scalp as he sat on the bench, trembling under your touch, caught in the storm of emotions you so easily controlled. his mind was a whirl of confusion and panic, the image of the dead girl flashing briefly before his eyes. but it faded, again and again, every time you touched him, every time your skin brushed against his, pulling him back under your spell.

you could feel his tension, the way his body shook with the weight of what he’d witnessed, but you knew how to make it disappear. he was already on edge, lost in you, in the heat of the moment. his gaze followed the path of your fingers as they slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, until they reached his waist, where his breath caught in his throat. you knelt down before him, taking his face in your hands and tilting it up so his eyes met yours. “you’re okay,” you murmured, your voice soft, as if you were soothing a frightened animal. “i’ve got you.”

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes darting to the side for a fleeting moment, as though the gruesome scene in the locker room was haunting him, begging him to act. but then your hands slid lower, over his chest, his stomach, until they stopped just above his hips, your fingers tracing the line of his waistband. the panic in his eyes dulled, replaced by something deeper, more primal, as you tugged him closer to the edge of the bench.

the soft click of your heels echoed in the silence as you placed a foot on his thigh, balancing yourself delicately. his breath hitched again as his trembling hands reached for you instinctively, but you grabbed them and placed them firmly at your waist, guiding him into touching you like you were his to worship. “you love me, right?” you purred, watching him nod, wide-eyed, desperate to please you. your hands slid to his belt, and you slowly undid the buckle with a deft flick of your wrist. “then show me.”

mark’s eyes darkened with hunger, his previous fears fading as he focused entirely on you. his hands moved on their own now, running up and down your sides, feeling the curve of your body. you slipped out of your heels, and his lips pressed reverently against your ankles, trailing kisses up your calves as he pulled your shoes off. his touch was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid to break you, but as you cupped the back of his neck and tilted his head up to meet your gaze, the heat between you grew.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his voice trembling with reverence. you smirked, enjoying the way he was beginning to unravel beneath you, his mind drifting away from everything else but you. his lips traveled higher, over the bend of your knees and up your thighs, until they reached the hem of your panties. he hesitated for a moment, his mind flickering back to the blood-stained scene in the locker room, the image of the girl’s lifeless body gnawing at his consciousness. but the moment you tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, the thought evaporated like smoke. he was too far gone now, too lost in the warmth of your skin, the scent of your body, the taste of your lips.

“don’t think about her,” you whispered, your words wrapping around him like a command. “just focus on me.” you didn’t have to say it twice. his lips were on your skin again, hungry and eager, as he worshiped every inch of you. his hands slid over your breasts, squeezing gently, and you let out a soft sigh, arching into his touch. the more he touched you, the more his fear slipped away, replaced by the need to lose himself in you completely.

he felt your hands move lower, grazing over the bulge in his pants, stroking him through the fabric just enough to make him gasp. his breath was ragged now, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.  “you’re doing so good,” you whispered, your voice soothing but firm, guiding him into submission. “just relax.”

he let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he surrendered himself to you, to the sensation of your hand stroking him, calming him, making him forget everything else. his hips bucked involuntarily as you continued your ministrations, the tension in his body building until he couldn’t think straight anymore. you palmed his painfully hard dick through his boxers, touch gentle as you pulled them down, allowing his cock to spring free, twitching and aching with an overwhelming heat in your hand.

his lips found yours again, desperate and sloppy, as he pulled you closer, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. you kissed him back, just as messy, just as hungry, fueling the fire between you. he moaned into your mouth, his hands squeezing your ass as you pressed against him, the heat between you becoming unbearable with his hips shakily bucking into the warmth of your hand. “you don’t wanna lose me, do you?” you murmured against his lips, your breath hot against his skin. he shook his head frantically, his voice hoarse as he rasped out, “no, i don’t.”

you leaned back, straddling him on the bench, your thighs wrapping around his waist. your hand slipped away from his cock, reaching back to unclasp your bra, letting your breasts spill out, heavy and full. his eyes went wide with lust, and you knew he was yours, utterly and completely. “then prove it,” you whispered, leaning back to give him full view of your chest. his eyes devoured you, and without a moment’s hesitation, his mouth closed around one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently, making you gasp with pleasure. you could feel the weight of his heavy, bare cock twitching against your thigh, grazing your panties that desperately needed to be pulled off.

you reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking it slowly, watching his reaction as you brought him closer to the edge. he moaned against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “so good for me,” you murmured, the words a dark promise in the quiet of the locker room. he nodded, his eyes glazed with lust as he took your other breast in his mouth, his tongue circling the sensitive peak. the feel of his hot mouth on your skin made you wetter, your panties soaked with desire. you needed him to fuck you, to fill you up and forget all about what he had seen.

you slid off the bench, pulling your panties down to expose your bare, wet pussy. mark’s eyes snapped to the sight, his breathing growing more ragged as he took in the vision before him. you stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, and guided him to his knees. his eyes searched yours for reassurance, and you gave it to him, a nod of your head and a smirk that promised everything would be okay. he leaned in, his breath hot on your skin as he kissed along your inner thigh, his tongue tracing the delicate lines that led to your center. you spread your legs wider, granting him full access, watching as his tongue flicked out to taste you. he looked so needy, so desperate for every bit of you, and it only turned you on even more.

his tongue darted out, licking along your slit, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. your hand found his hair again, your grip tightening as you pushed him closer, urging him to devour you. he didn’t need much convincing, his mouth moving against you with a hunger that was almost animalistic. you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the tension in your body coiling tight like a spring ready to snap. you knew he could feel it too, the way his grip on your hips tightened, his tongue moving faster, more insistent, but you couldn’t let go just yet, not with the sight of his cock pressing into his stomach. he swore he could cum untouched at just the sight of you.

you leaned back against the lockers, one hand in his hair, the other playing with your clit, guiding him, telling him exactly what you needed. his eyes never left yours, watching as you grew closer to climax, as your breath grew ragged and your legs began to tremble. your moans grew louder, echoing off the tiles, mixing with the slurping sounds of his mouth on you, and you knew he was getting off on it too, on being the one to make you feel this way. you felt yourself start to come undone, the warmth spreading through you like a wildfire, your body tightening around his face as he licked and sucked and assaulted your cunt, staining his jaw with slick.

mark’s eyes glazed over with desire as he watched you shudder and come, his tongue still lapping at your juices as if he couldn’t get enough. your hand in his hair tightened even more, pulling him closer as you rode out the last waves of pleasure. when you finally released him, he looked up at you with a dazzling smile, proud of himself for making you feel that way. you stepped closer, stroking his cheek with a gentle touch that belied the power you had over him.

his cock was now a throbbing ache, begging for release, and you knew it. you stepped closer, guiding him to stand, and bent down to kiss him again, your tongue tasting yourself on his lips. he moaned into the kiss, his hands automatically reaching for you, grabbing onto your ass and pulling you closer. your kiss grew sloppier, more desperate, as your hands reached for his zipper and pulled it down, freeing his cock. it sprang out, thick and heavy, and you couldn’t help but let out a little gasp of surprise.

you pushed him back down onto the bench, your body straddling him once more. your hand wrapped around his length, stroking it with the same expertise he had used on you. his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt you position yourself over him, his cock poised at your entrance. your pussy was still pulsing from your orgasm, and you knew he could feel it, could feel how wet you were for him. you looked down into his eyes, watching the need in them grow stronger, the fear and horror of what he had seen fading away as you lowered yourself onto him.

his cock slid into you with a groan, filling you up completely, stretching you out until you felt like you might split in two. you began to rock your hips, riding him with a slow, steady rhythm that had him panting and cursing underneath you. his hands found your breasts again, squeezing them as he watched you take him deeper and deeper. your eyes never left his, the intensity of the moment keeping you both locked in a silent battle of wills. his thoughts of the girl were gone, replaced by the overwhelming desire to please you, to make you scream his name.

you leaned in, your breasts brushing against his chest, and whispered, “so sweet to me, always listening,” your voice was a siren’s call, luring him deeper into your web of seduction. he nodded, his eyes glazed with lust, and you felt a thrill of power run through you. your hips picked up the pace, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the locker room. “i'll do whatever you say,” is all you needed to hear. he was lost in you now, his eyes never leaving your face, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you fucked him harder and faster.

his thumb found your clit and began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, and your moans grew louder, your movements more erratic. your orgasm was building again, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. you could feel his cock swelling inside you, and you knew he was close too. “cum inside me,” you panted, your voice a desperate plea. “i want to feel you fill me up, promise me you won’t say anything.” his response was a grunt of agreement, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge once more.

you threw your head back, your eyes squeezed shut as you came, your body spasming around his cock. he followed you, his hips bucking up into you as he filled you with his hot cum, the sensation making you clench around him even tighter. your walls pulsed around him, milking him dry, and he let out a guttural moan of pleasure, his body shaking with the force of his climax.

for a moment, you both sat there, panting and sweaty, his cock still buried inside you. then, with a sly smile, you leaned down to kiss him, your tongue darting into his mouth, tasting yourself on him. he kissed you back, his hands still gripping your hips tightly, his breathing uneven. he didn’t have to speak, his silence was what you asked for in the first place. you got what you wanted, you always did.

✧

a/n: elite was such a good show until it wasn’t

[101maverick]

how would dick grayson react to his gf acting possessive towards him out of jealousy in front of a super villain flirting with him. sort of like the reader telling the villain “cut to the chase or I’ll cut your throat” while they’re interrogating the villain

A/n: Okkk we're going strong with the Dick asks! This one is very original :)) lemme see what I can do for u >:)

word count: 911

You, Me, and the Moonlight

Your eye twitches compulsively. You don't know if the sound that's itching to escape from your throat is an exasperated sigh or something suspiciously akin to a growl.

What was supposed to be a relatively normal patrol, with the usual shtick of stopping muggers and the occasional gang dispute, had quickly turned into you and Dick dealing with a Poison Ivy.

Thanks to one of Wayne Enterprises' new unreleased gadgets, a.k.a. one of Batman's new toys, the plant-maniac is currently tied up inside of the warehouse she had been planning on transforming into a home-base for her infesting plants.

Nightwing is currently interrogating her while you watch from the shadows of the rafters. Operating in the dark is always best in these kinds of situations, while dealing with this kind of people. Poison Ivy is notorious for her ability to hypnotise, so it's optimal that she find out of your presence only if need be.

Plus, her mind-control perfume has no hope of working on Nightwing while he's got his air-filtering mask on, and he strategically put the chair she's tied to in front of a mirror conveniently already present on the scene, to make sure to react readily to any attempts of escape.

Nightwing stands in front of her, still and stoic. Despite the lack of cape and the electric blue of his costume, years of being the Batman's sidekick are evident in how effective he is in the intimidation department. His voice is cold and authoritative as he questions the woman in front of him.

“Ivy. Who helped you get out of Arkham?”

Poison Ivy just giggles, responding to his looming stance by slightly tilting her head downwards to better bat her eyelashes at him, her voice sultry as she responds. “Can’t a woman do things by herself, Nightwing?”

From where you are perched, you can see the line of his back tense with well-concealed frustration. “I know you had help, Ivy, there’s no use denying that. Now I’ll ask again,” he leans forward, coming face to face with her, “Who helped you?”

You stalk your way over to a more advantageous view point, steps muffled and careful as you manoeuvre on the support beams. From your new position, you're able to make out the mischievous way her lips curl as she responds. "Let me out of these restraints and I'll tell you without a problem."

Another deflection. Dick's face is obscured by both the domino and the mask, but you can still read his mounting annoyance in the way his hand twitches at his side, a tell-tale sign he's refraining from clenching it into a fist.

Before he can respond, though, Poison Ivy speaks again.

"You've grown up to be such a handsome man, Nightwing, why don't you take that mask off so I can see you better? After all, we have quite the long history don't we?" And wow if you didn't want to bash her face in at the looks she was giving him before you sure as hell want to do so now.

You know it's a tactic meant to make Nightwing uncomfortable in the hopes of making him loose his footing, but you can't just stand aside and let this downright witch play her mind games however long she pleases.

Your boyfriend is quick to move his face away from your prisoner, taking a step back, and you choose that moment to drop down from the shadows of the warehouse roof right in front of her.

You land almost upright, and unsheathe a dagger from your side in one smooth motion as you turn to stare Ivy right in the face.

"Cut to the chase, Ivy. And don't even think of saying something like that again or I'll cut your throat, and you know I'm not bluffing." 634

Ivy's expression turns downright sour, and as she grumbles under her breath before reluctantly spouting off the needed information you feel vindictiveness making a home in your chest, and damn if that doesn't feel pleasant.

————————————

Being able to finally rest after a night of chasing, interrogating and arresting villains feels like heaven on earth, and as you flop down face-first on your bed you're extremely grateful for the fact you and Dick decided to splurge on your mattress.

A smile upturns the corners of your lips as you feel your boyfriend lay beside you, and you stay pliant sa you let him snake an arm around your waist and roll you over to face him.

His breath fans over your face as he whispers in the moonlit silence of your shared bedroom. "Thanks for earlier, with Ivy."

At that, you open your eyes and find him staring right into yours.

"Can't let a creep talk to my man like that, can I?" You let out a low chuckle.

In the low light, it takes a while for your eyesight to adjust, and his features slowly come into focus.

As you keep holding each others' gaze, you drop the humour.

"I'll always protect you, Dick," You whisper while bringing your hand up to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. His eyes sparkle in the almost-dark of the Blüdhaven night. "Just like you protect me."

You wonder how many vulnerable moments just you, Dick and the moonlight are witness to.

Laying there, each of you in the other's gentle embrace, you hope there'll be many more.

————————————

A/n: This was fun! I can't decide if it feels a bit rushed, but I'm still happy with the result :) Fun fact! While I was working on this ask I got another ask that's basically the reverse of this lol, where it's Dick getting jealous because a villain is flirting with reader😂 If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

[eepwriting]

• mean brat taming dom ii who is SO soft with u after (my hc says there’s no way he’s not into impact play tbh)

• ivy being the absolute softest gentlest daddy dom ever (tell me he doesn’t give that strong gentle energy. the praise he would give?! UGH)

• primal feral vessel claiming you after chasing you through the forest. right there on the leaf littered floor

• iii edging you over and over on his thigh until you’re sobbing and brain dead (really i just think iii would enjoy being as much of a fucking tease as possible. whispering dirty thoughts in your ear through the day. stealing spicy touches. leading up to when he can finally get you alone and drive you REALLY crazy)

• reader x vessel x ivy threesome. soft daddy dom ivy and mean dom vessel

i have too many filthy ideas but no ability to write them so 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 godspeed, hope these inspire some filth from you!

- thirsty girl 💘

Count ‘em ✶ II x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, impact play (spanking, light slapping, choking, pinching, hair pulling), degradation, oral (m receiving), mean! ii

TRUST when I say I will be returning to this ask to write something for every prompt. Also, THANKS for some ii stuff!! I was feeling bad that I only had one thing wrote for him 🤍🤍

!! mdi !!

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“Move it, I’ve already said it once. That should be enough.” His voice is stern, his eyes serious as he impatiently drums his fingers on his legs.

You knew him well enough at this point to know what his calm demeanor truly meant. Even the way he undressed you minutes before had been slow and careful. Only you knew that the second he got you over his lap, his actions would not be gentle.

You swallow nervously, hoping he can’t hear the sound of your heart about to break through your chest. You knew your brattiness throughout the day had gotten you here. Your unrelenting back talk and attitude wasn’t something you gave ii often, but for whatever reason, you wanted to see how far you could push him today.

You’re slow to move towards him, his full and undivided attention on you feeling as if it was about to burn a hole into the side of your face. He lets you help yourself onto his lap, crawling to lay face down across his spread thighs. His hand is heavy on your back once you get settled, sliding up your spine to rest in between your shoulder blades. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been awfully difficult.” His hand moves up into your hair to tug, pulling your head back slightly. “Hm?”

You think about your answer carefully and decide to just be honest with him. He’d know anyway if you were lying. “I think it’s fun.” Your hand grips his calf when he tugs harder, isolating a chunk of hair at the crown of your head. “Fun? To mess with me? To irritate and piss me off to no end? You think that’s fun, is what I’m hearing?” You nod meekly, silently enjoying the pull on your hair. He only hums and reaches his other hand around to wrap around your throat, applying enough pressure to make breathing slightly more difficult, but not enough to make you panic for air.

“Well I don’t think that’s very fun at all. In fact, only a desperate, pathetic little whore would find something like that to be fun. Is that what you are then? A desperate and pathetic whore?” The hand in your hair disappears to grope roughly at your ass before settling on a cheek, leaving a stinging pinch. You take in a short gasp of air at the sting, earning a quiet snicker from ii. His full hand comes down in a dull smack before massaging over your skin. “You make it so easy, you know. Your skin practically begs to be marked up. You seem to want that too, don’t you? You wouldn’t act up if you didn’t.” Another, this time harsher smack is dealt. “I didn’t get an answer to my question.” The hand around your throat tightens.

Your eyes close in a long blink before you attempt a nod. He makes a sound of disappointment next to you. “You know you’re supposed to use your words. Don’t play dumb.” His hand moves to the back of your thigh to pinch and pull at the skin.

You squirm and squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes. I’m a desperate and pathetic whore.” This earns you a groan and another spank. “There you go. Maybe you can follow instructions. Why don’t you count ‘em for me, hm?” His touch is soft as he runs his hand up your back. Your mumbled and nervous “okay” is enough for him to swat at your ass again. He waits for your response before landing another. “2…” The pain is tolerable but you know he’s just warming up.

He lands 10 solid smacks, each progressively getting harsher before massaging his hand over your stinging skin. You hiss at the touch and make a poor attempt to shift your hips away from him. “I like watching you jolt from the pain. The little gasps you let out.” The hand around your throat moves to run through your hair.

He repeats the same actions on the other cheek, but doesn’t build up at all. The 10 makes your skin sting, like hot fire, your eyes watering at the repeated blows. II knows you can take it, knows you enjoy it. Clearly evident by the way moans and whimpers flood out of your mouth and your hips grind down on his thigh.

He lets you rest, massaging his fingers over your scalp, his other hand lightly scratching over your back. “On your knees now.” He says after his moment of quiet tenderness. Excitement blooms in your stomach, ready and aching to take more than just his harsh hands. You’re slow to move off his lap and even slower to sink to the floor. The skin on your ass is hot against your calves and ankles, a dull but persistent sting radiating as you get situated on your knees.

II cups the sides of your face, moving your head side to side as he looks down at you. His thumbs move over your cheeks before he leans down to press his mouth to yours. It’s harsh and rushed. Teeth clashing together before he bites over your bottom lip. His hand returns around your throat before he drags you up to stand on your knees. He roughly grips your hip, digging his fingertips into the skin, hard enough you’re sure to see a bruise in the morning. He licks into your mouth a final time before breaking away from you. He groans when he looks at you. Hair messed up from his hands, lips red and slightly inflamed, the skin on your neck a bright white with how much pressure he’s applying to your throat. His thumb absentmindedly runs over your lips before he hooks it over your bottom lip to force your mouth open. Your tongue comes out to lick over his thumb, earning another low groan from ii. “Such a pretty mouth. I’m gonna fuck it.” His thumb messily runs over your outstretched tongue. An inadvertent whimper comes from you at those words, your hands impatiently grabbing at his thighs. He snickers at you before standing to remove his jeans.

Both his hands cradle your head in surprising tenderness but his eyes and facial expression are cold and stern as he looks down at you. He lightly slaps your cheek twice and you take that as a cue to open your mouth for him. He hums, sliding one hand to the back of your head. He wastes no time in sliding his cock fully into your awaiting mouth. II’s jaw clenches and his hips buck towards you when your lips wrap around him. “Put that mouth of yours to good use.” He grunts, cock moving in and out of your mouth quickly. His too tight grip on your hair makes you whine around him and squeeze your eyes shut. A harsher slap lands on your cheek. “You keep your eyes on me.” It almost comes out in a growl as he practically straddles your face, forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he can. He doesn’t let up despite your watering eyes, gags and nails digging into the skin on his thighs.

You know he’s close when the sounds he lets out become higher pitched and the rhythm of his thrusts turn disjointed. “Take it. Be good and take it.” He breathes out before letting out a long groan. His movements pause as he cums at the back of your throat, his hand holding your head close to him. You breathe through your nose and patiently wait for him to pull away from you. You can finally close your eyes, forcing leftover tears down your cheeks when he backs away. You stay looking up at him, his chest heaving, eyes heavy and relaxed now.

He lazily reaches out to brush over the top of your head and wipe over your cheeks. He holds his hand out for you, letting you take your time in rising to your feet. He pulls you into a long hug, hands running up and down your back. He guides you to lay on the bed, insisting you lay on your stomach. He lays next to you for a short while, asking you repeatedly if you’re okay, peppering kisses on the side of your face. He leaves your side and comes back with water and an ice pack. He watches you sip the water while holding the ice on your still red hot skin. He coos at you when you wince, shuffling closer to you as he watches you with concern filled eyes.

Your tiredness eventually catches up to you and you’re not sure how long you’ve dozed off before you feel ii straddle your hips. You whine when his hard again cock pushes against you. “Mm, don’t touch…it’s too much.” You furrow your brows and try to shift away from his hands that brush over your aching skin. “Shhh, I know, love. You’ve been so good for me…wanna help you. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His voice is quiet as he leans over you, nuzzling his head against your neck. He lazily mouths over your skin and ever so slowly inches into you.

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The way I could not focus for more than 5 minutes while writing this 🙃 I had different plans for this but I just could not use enough brain power to write it lol

BUT I’m so excited to return to this ask!!! So many good ideas 👏🏻 thank you again anon 💘

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed!

K. Bye bye.

[caprisunnydays]

First time but not really

Lawrence wakes up to the MC/you on top of him! What is he supposed to do while you fuck him? He's not sure...

Warnings : NSFW content/smut, mentions of murder, described thoughts of murder, mentions of necrophilia

General : Dom Reader, Sub Lawrence, riding, GN reader, lawrence being awkward and a weirdo manz, no y/n because reader is "the body" because that's how I think that Lawrence would see them

IF U DON'T LIKE THIS STUFF DONT READ, like fr I know its not for everyone but for all the boyfriend to death girlies HEYYYYY

Word count 1.1k

Lawrence’s hands gripped the sheets, hands stiff beside him as the body on top of him kissed his neck. He had been asleep just a few minutes before this, now here he lay on his squeaky, twin sized bed, in the darkness of his flora filled apartment. On top of him hovered a warm body, the body he should have put in the ground by now. 

He knew it from the start, that they’d be a problem, and now he was reaping the consequences of letting them live.

The consequences being his flushed face and hard dick, both embarrassing signs of his loss of control in this situation. Like ivy, the body twisted around him, creeping along his skin and making him shudder and unable to gain the sense to throw them off and cut them up like he should.

Like incessant clover, the body planted kisses on his neck and chest, blossoming hot, fuzzy sensations that spread throughout his quivering form. His eyes were squeezed shut, studying the back of his eyelids as he thought of all the things he could do to the body once he found the strength to push it off. 

His gardening scissors…a knife to carve out that pretty spine…all were possibilities in his fantasy where the body was cold, and unmoving. It would be both a lovely and loathsome contrast to their lively, heated state above him. He wanted to drain that heat from them, feel the blood give his hands a more temporary warmth as he used it as lube to defile their rotting corpse. He would crush them, make them wilt as he did to all his plants once the urge to cut their meaningless, sinful lives out of their existence became too much to ignore.

Plants… that’s what they all were. Flowers, such beautiful things that lied and deceived, taking from the earth to fuel their own vanity and-

Here he was with one on top of him. When he opens his eyes the tiniest bit, he sees the flower on top of him. He thinks this might be the prettiest he’s ever seen.

The prettiest were always his favorite to destroy. Killing such a thing that didn’t deserve the beauty it was gifted, for its inside was rotten and grotesque-

The tingling in his body had made him numb, and the bit of insanity spirling in his mind came to the forefront as he went to reach up, to grab that pretty, stem-like neck.

But the body’s hands gently laid his hands down on either side of his head. His eyes widened, though not in surprise of the action itself, but that he himself would let them do this. His breath hitched as they slowly pulled his sweatpants down just enough to reveal his weeping cock, beads of precum dribbling down the light pink tip. A soft, unconscious groan rose in his throat, the need to have something tight and warm around him growing with each passing second of this torturous dance. Yet no demands slipped from his mouth, words buzzing around his mind as he gripped the pillow behind him as the body shifted their position to where their entrance was directly over him.

“W-wait-” His words died immediately to a humiliatingly high pitched moan as they took him fully. The body’s hole was so hot, so tight- was this what people loved so much? Was this real sex? Love making? No, definitely not that. There was too much hedonism in the way they were squeezing him so tightly around him, bouncing up and down and forcing him to cover his mouth to block the noises he was making. His eyes watered at the intensity of the body’s movements, and the pleasure it was causing. All those nights he finished into his hand seem useless now. Even the tight hole of the corpses he fucked could never have satisfied him as much as the one wrapped around his throbbing cock.

“S-slow down…” He whimpered, though when they did he bucked his hips, trying to regain the electric sensation he previously had access to. They laughed softly and resumed their punishing pace, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin as they rode him viciously.

Perhaps this was their payback for all the nights they’d spent tied up in that chair. The body must be using the energy they stored up in that time to fuck his brains out, leaving him mindless and drooling underneath them.

He couldn’t think, he could barely breath as he felt himself getting close. His balls, heavy from all the pathetic unachieved orgasms he’d attempted to bring himself to, drew up into his body as he prepared to cum. He could feel them getting close too, their walls clenching around him deliciously. Their head was thrown back, hands gripping his thighs for support as they drew their body, before slamming down over and over and over…And they looked angelic as they bounced on his cock, trying to suck him dry of his seed and force him to bury it deep inside them. 

In an attempt to savor the moment, he tore one of his trembling hands from his mouth and reached up to their pretty face. Like a flower in full bloom, their eyes opened, and they turned their desperate gaze to his face, while taking his thumb into their mouth and sucking it slowly.

That enough was an action to push him over the edge, his eyes rolling back, and hand retreating to his mouth to cover the lewd moan that was ripped from his throat as he came. His cock twitched as his cum flooded their insides, mixing with their essence that flowed from within their throbbing core. He blinked tears of pleasure away as he looked up to see his flower rooted atop him, pretty, perfect, and with an expectation.

For a moment he was confused, was the body not satisfied with all that they had taken from him? After taking their captor in such a dominant manner? Though the realization hit him when they wiggled their hips and gazed at him with longing , just as his deluded mind imagines his flowers did when they awaited his water after days of neglect. Of course he was the only one that finished…His flower needed more.

Just like people took from him, his plants, especially his flowers always took the most. Such greedy little things, though their beauty made him wanna give them more and more… How easily distracted could a man get by something so insignificant? If he knew the answer to that question, his flower would have been deadheaded already… Oh well, he’d let this one get away with a bit more before he pruned away their spirit.

Man def aint making nobody cum fr fr, but I love my loser weirdo manz

Also I didn't really proof read so sorry for any mess ups~