#lesbian prompt

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[bye-bi-girl]

A restaurant au where Vivi is a dishwasher at Nini's restaurant. They don't know each other. Haven't met each other yet because of different schedules. But one day Vivi clocks in for work and sees Nini storming out of kitchen. As she walked in, she saw all the chefs standing tensely, looking at the shattered pieces of ceramics and clots of custard everywhere. Vivi didn't know what to make of it. She was there to make enough money to push through college. What chefs in Michelin star restaurants get up to was none of her business. But it made her apprehensive of her own future. How would she survive out there when she actually works in the field of her expertise?

A few days later, way into night, the chefs had closed for the day and left. Vivi was alone, dealing with one dish, out of the piling mountain, at a time. Suddenly, she heared someone clear their throat. When she turned around there was Nini, looking at her with unclear expressions. Vivi turned back and focused on the dishes. Nini quietly walked closed and made space for herself in front of the sink, moving Vivi with her hips. She quietly segregated the different types of dishes to make Vivi's task easier and then started drying them. In the following day, or rather nights, this was how their routine was.

◇

"You never told me you owned the restaurant?"

"I wanted to rizz you without that interfering between us."

[elainiisms]

non sexual intimacy!!!! bathing together, washing each other, playing with each other's hair, kissing every inch of their body, writing love letters on their back with your finger, connecting their moles and freckles to create constellations on their skin, running your hands up and down their thighs, ugh just expressing physical love without it having to be about sex!!!!

[hel-unleashed]

And now, for my next trick I'll make your girlfriend disappear!

Arctober 11 - Magic

[raebonnz]

happy lizzie week i mean lizzie week i mean lizzie week i mean lesbian week

[ash-and-starlight]

what if we eloped in the earth kingdom 👉🏼👈🏼 and we were both girls 🫣😳

for mailee week day 2 // post canon

((heavily inspired by Uemura Shōen’s whispering beauties <333))

[ID: a colored digital drawing of Mai and Ty Lee. they’re drawn from the thigh-up, standing. Ty Lee is behind Mai and leaning close to her, tucking a white magnolia flower behind her ear. Mai’s head is slightly turned, and she’s looking softly back at Ty Lee. they’re both wearing kimonos in tones of green. the drawing is colored to resemble ukyo-e prints]

[creation-help]

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈PRIDE THEMED OC ASK GAME🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍⚧️

Bc I wanted one and didn't find it so. Here

[Send ask aimed at a specific character]

1. What's your oc's gender identity? What's their relationship to their gender?

2. What's your oc's orientation? (Romantic/sexual/platonic alterous ect) Do they have opinions about it?

3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?

4. Is your oc's environment supportive about their identity? How does this impact them?

5. How did you figure out your oc's identity?

6. How does your oc feel about labels? Theirs, or in general?

7. Is there something that could cause your oc to question their identity? What?

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?

10. Does your oc celebrate Pride? How?

11. Is your oc open about their identity? Are they more lowkey or more blunt about it? Why or why not?

12. Does/did your oc ever wish they could change the way they are? Why? If it's in the past, how did they get over the feeling? (this can be about internalized homo/transphobia)

13. Would your oc be open to a poly relationship? Why or why not?

[Not aimed at a specific character] / [Aimed at creator]

14. Do you have ocs on the aro or ace spectrum?

15. Do any of your ocs use neopronouns? Which ones?

16. Did you ever change an oc's identity when they were already established? Why?

17. Do you share identity with any of your ocs? Which ones?

18. Do you prefer to give your ocs specific labels, or keep it unspecified? Why? If applicable, do you change their labels depending on circumstance?

19. Do you have preferences about depicting homo/transphobia in your stories? What, and why? Does it vary by story?

20. Have your ocs helped you in self discovery? How?

21. Free ramble card wee

[greenglowinspooks]

Alright, since it’s no longer 2 in the morning and my head’s a bit clearer, I present to you:

Liminal Riddler

So, not everyone in the DC fandom knows about this, and I’d bet that even less people in the Phandom do, but at one point, the Riddler had cancer. Had, past-tense, because he cured it. With the Lazarus pits.

And yeah, not everyone who gets dipped in the pits has to be liminal, but one would assume that the sudden replacement of a large number of malignant cells throughout the body is gonna do something.

The Riddler already acts quite a lot like a DP ghost in some interpretations anyways. He’s got a strict gimmick that he genuinely can’t part ways with, he’s campy and fun, he’s incredibly violent, etc.

Also, the way that he would react to this whole thing would be funny as hell.

Do I think the Riddler would really care if the GiW was after him? No. This is Gotham, the government is constantly going after him anyways.

Do I think he would care if Danny was being hunted down by the same people, and his parents were involved? Somewhat. He probably wouldn’t care about Danny specifically, at least not right away, but a young boy running terrified from his own parents would definitely bring back some bad memories, and he would probably give him a hand (if for no other reason than to get back to plotting crimes instead of dealing with childhood trauma).

Do I think the Riddler, whose entire thing is being smarter than everyone else, would care if the GiW somehow let slip that they thought he didn’t have human intelligence? That they believed him to be nothing but an echo of human life?

It’s not even a question. He would be the most insufferable person in Gotham within the hour. Genuinely nothing could stop him, especially not if Danny was helping jailbreak him from Arkham every time he got caught.

Almost every major road is closed. Every warehouse on the Docks is on fire. Somehow, they managed to color the clouds and smog a bright green.

The natives of Gotham would probably get those anti-ghost laws and acts overturned faster than the Justice League, if only to make the Riddler stop. His traps and games aren’t even lethal at this point (due to Danny’s insistence), but they’re so genuinely annoying that the general population is about to beat the GiW agents to death themselves just to get the Riddler to quit it already.

Also, I think that during this whirl of chaos, the Riddler would become quite fond of Danny.

He’s a bright young boy who’s very fond of wordplay, and inventive enough to keep up with him. Aside from the inevitable crisis of “oh god I’m becoming the bat,” he’d probably be happy to take on Danny as his protégé. Even if the boy won’t let him kill anyone (rude), he’s a terrifying getaway driver and can turn the both of them invisible and intangible, making Arkham escapes a breeze.

Hell, the Riddler would probably be willing to make a false identity for the two of them, just so he could get the boy proper schooling.

(Yes, he thinks that the entire education system is a sham and that he could do much better, but Danny wants to go into aerospace engineering, and the Riddler isn’t one to squander someone’s interest in learning.)

(Also, Echo and Query would find the whole thing hilarious)

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Writing prompt: When Eddie mishears Robin when she tells him that Steve is partially deaf. Eddie thinks she said that Steve is dead, what's Robin to do but to fuck with Eddie and tell him that her best friend is a ghost who doesn't know he's dead. Now, she gets to watch as Eddie tries to work up the courage to tell Steve he's a dead man.

Edit: Steve yells at Robin: "QUIT TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD."

[wren-l-winter]

“Say it again,” Whumper snarled, her knuckles white as she lifted the whip again. The tip left a slithering trail of crimson with each pass–a mess her pet would have to clean.

Whumpee sagged against the post, her legs unwilling to support her. “It was my fault.”

“Why?”

She tensed, closing her eyes as if the darkness would hide her from Whumper’s wrath. “I broke the rules.”

“What rules, Whumpee?” Her name fell from her lips like she’d taken a bite of spoiled fruit.

“I’m not allowed out of my room when guests are here, but I did.” She pressed her face against the post, smearing her tears. Whumper always told her she was an ugly crier. “And I listened outside of your study. I’m not allowed in the wing of the estate.” A fresh wave of fear struck with the rasp of the whip beginning to uncoil.

Whumper waited.

A minute passed. Maybe her punishment was over. Maybe they were taking a break. Maybe-

The whip cracked against her back.

[wis-art]

little comic i made based on this ask @scyrus42 sent me

[gigireece16]

this is your friendly reminder to make your gay characters evil. allow them to get annoying. put them in a pool of blood. make them insane. and let them do a little homoertic stabbing with their nemesis. i personally think it’s good for the soul.

[yanderemommabean]

yandere witchy lesbian couple who live in the woods, who are actually scary legends rumored to eat those who stumble into their territory. However, they know you, they've watched you for while, and they want to do a much more enjoyable form of eating when you are tricked into entering their home <3

-Mommabean (just some thoughts! )

[fr3aklike-me]

night in with a stranger ☾⋆｡ ๋࣭ ⭑˚

contains: vampire lesbian sex (straight ppl NO this is not for you), narrator is referred to as having a "cock," reader is referred to as having a "pussy," "cunt," "clit" and "breasts," reader is called "silly girl," cunnilingus, corruption kink (+ inexperience kink?? i guess), d/s dynamics, v slowburn, implied blood-sucking desires + tendencies (so ofc warning for blood mention)

note: this story is inspired by this ask and this ask, so thank you so much to the anons who sent this!! this story is very overdue, but yes, i've finally finished hehe. also, yes, this is meant to be a vampire scenario, but the vampire tendencies in question are very vaguely alluded to (one, because i was unsure how to go about a vampire!narrator as i've never written one before, and two, i thought it might be interesting to make a part 2 where those tendencies are more explicitly revealed to the reader and incorporated into the characters' sex lives)

On a cold, fall night, you find yourself lost. You didn’t mean for it to happen – you were retrieving a hot drink from the market during such a bitter evening, eager to return home and curl into the softest cushions while drinking it. Somehow, however, on the way back home, you got lost in the forest and when you emerged from the thick, looming trees, you were met not with your village, but wide, rolling hills of green, blanketing the ground for miles.

Needless to say, you are now panicking, head swivelling in all directions, desperately trying to grip onto any sense of hope that with the sky dark, the leaves of the tree a shadowed emerald, the hoots of owls cooing from the depth of the trees, you could find your way home. You fumble with the flimsy cloak you’re wearing, goosebumps skimming along the surface of your skin, a stark reminder of the fact that you will need shelter soon. 

You realize that walking through the forest is most likely not a good decision, for who knew what creatures lurked beyond the towering trees, so you make your way along the hills, hoping to complete some estimate of the same distance you made to arrive at this point, so perhaps you can find the entrance of the forest you entered through after visiting the market. A weak plan, but you have no idea what else to do.

After an hour, you find not a glimmer of hope to be found amongst the trees. Surprisingly, instead, you spot an orange flicker on a raised hill beyond the expanse of greenery you’ve been trudging upon. The single beam of light vaguely shows the outline of a dark manor, and despite your nerves, you force your way there. Hopefully, the owner is someone who is kind enough to afford you a warm meal and bed for the night.

At least, this is the story you tell me when we’re seated across from one another in my manor, warm candlelight casting a golden glow to your features as you explain your situation and plead for a spare room. It is endearing, to see you practically begging. Your hands wrap around the cup of tea I brought to you, your cloak still wrapped tightly around you. With the fire running, I can already see the beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.

You are the image of loveliness. So shy, so sweet, so embarrassed to be asking for a favour. 

“Of course you can have a room,” I say with a smile, and you beam in response, gratefully setting the cup down and clasping your hands together. 

“Thank you so much.”

I wave a hand with a smile, eyes flickering over your pretty eyes, and your lips, shiny from when your tongue has darted out to lick them. Nerves, I suppose – you are in a stranger’s home, after all. “Why were you all by yourself on such a dark evening?”

You explain your small journey to the market, bashfully eyeing the ground. “It’s embarrassing, having gotten lost so easily.”

“In your defense, it is very difficult to navigate when the sun sets as early as it does now.”

Your lips curl up. “Have you ever gotten lost in these parts?”

I shrug, spreading my arms along the arms of my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “No. But, I have lived in this home for many years. It is only natural that I would know these parts well.”

“How long have you resided here?”

I pause, tilting my head at you. “Perhaps ten years. Though, in the last two or three years, I’ve come to accept that I will spend many decades here, most likely.”

You took a small sip of your tea, eyes watching me through your lashes. Such endearing eyes they are, so attentive in their watching of me. “Do you live here alone?”

I nod. “Yes, I acquired the property from a relative who left it to me in their will.”

“You alone, in this large home, with nothing but hills upon hills for miles…” you drifted off, eyes scanning the ceiling above us and the detailed artwork that coats it. “It sounds rather lonely.”

I smirk at your kind sympathy, and lift my leg off from the other, spreading them out and bracing my elbows on them, leaning forward. “You’re very kind, miss, but I quite like my arrangement.”

I can hear the gulping noise from your throat when you swallow. Once again, your lips part to swipe your pretty, pink tongue along them, getting them slick and wet with spit. You release a heavy, trembling breath at my sudden proximity and close gaze. “Um, why is that?”

“It affords me the privacy I need to… entertain any guests,” I say lowly, nearly chuckling when your eyes widen, blinking fast at my insinuation. You press your lips together, moving them slowly, and I can sense the hesitation you feel, eyes flickering between myself and your lap.

And yes, your lap. From here, I can see your legs moving closer together, squeezing, thighs probably pressed against what lies between them. Your pretty fingers fist into the fabric of your clothes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you raise your eyes to meet mine. “What room would you propose I take?”

I cock my head to the door behind you, leaning back into my seat. So, it seems that you perhaps are interested, but do not desire to go further. I would not push it. “The South Quarters will be the warmest.”

“What quarters are your room in?” you ask quietly, eyes narrowed on your hands.

“North,” I mutter, taking a sip of my tea, raising an eyebrow from the question.

You hook your bottom lip in your teeth again. I can feel myself throb at the action, your lips so pretty and practically aching to be sucked on until they’re swollen. I can just picture biting into your plush bottom lip, toying with it lightly, sinking into them a bit deeper, sucking and running my tongue along to soothe it. Would you make any noises? Would you gasp, moan? Whimper softly? Or squeak in surprise?

My internal questions cease when you finally speak. “May I take a room in the North quarters?”

I can practically smell the arousal from you, dripping from your pussy and pooling where your underclothes are. It makes me mull on what kind of thoughts must be running through your mind, and how long they’ve been occupying you if you’re this wet already. It’s a heady, strong scent that all of a sudden kills the ability to focus on anything other than how much you deserve to be taken care of. My nostrils flare at the scent, and all of a sudden, I can just picture being nose deep in your cunt, breathing you in, letting your scent get sucked in, burying my tongue in you and watching you fight the urge to look down at me. 

Your legs are still locked together, knees rubbing, and once again, you wet those pretty lips, maintaining eye contact with me as you do. It’s difficult to determine whether the action is unintentional, or if you’re truly becoming aware of the way my fingers dig into the arms of the chair, or the way I spread my legs just a little bit further, desperate to have you sit on my lap.

Before any of that can happen, however, I steadily say, keeping my tone levelled and kind, “There is no need to owe me anything for letting you stay the night. You can truly have whichever room you desire, and we can retire separately.”

A tiny whimper is your response, the noise coming from somewhere deep and tight in your throat, the noise gentle and soft enough that you probably believe that the cough you give afterwards is enough to hide it. Unfortunately for you, though, you are completely unaware of how clear the noise was to my ears. How I cannot even dream of letting such a lovely noise escape me. So delicate, so unintentional, so shy, yet so telling of everything you want tonight. After your adorable little coughing fit comes to an end, you quietly say, eyes focused on the ruffled collar of my shirt. “I know. I did not ask for a room in the North quarters due to a sense of obligation or owing you.”

You lower your gaze bashfully, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like to directly meet it amongst all kinds of angles. When you’re on your knees for me, those pink, pretty lips wrapped around my fingers, or a part even lower. When my face is tucked in between your thighs, and you’re staring down at me. When my forehead is pressed against yours, eyes frozen on yours as I inch in–

I clear my throat, rising to my feet and sauntering to where you sit. Your eyes flicker over me, and I can hear how your heart begins to pump faster. Once I’m just a pace in front of you, looking down at your nervous, timid expression, I quietly ask, “Then, why are you asking for one?”

Your mouth twists and curls, nervousness clearly holding you back from answering. My fingers twitch, pausing momentarily, before I place a gentle palm on your cheek. You lean into it naturally, as though your bodily instincts possessed no other possible reaction, and I stroke my thumb against the texture of your skin, back and forth, lulling you into comfort. “Tell me.”

You clear your throat, and I can feel your skin heat beneath my fingers. “I want to know… how you entertain your guests.”

I suck in a deep breath, pleasure surging through me at your answer. My eyes wander to your lips, which part with a quiet wet noise, eager to take in whatever I have to offer. Just the mere motion is enough to send my cock stirring. I stroke my thumb across the corner of your mouth, nearly shuddering at the smooth softness of your lips, the tip getting coated in the inner wetness of your mouth, which widens further. I dip my thumb in deeper, going slow and holding back on my eagerness. When the rough pad meets your tongue, I swallow hard, nearly groaning when your mouth puckers and tightens over my finger, beginning to gently suck, eyes fluttering shut. When I push more, a high whine comes from you, your hand moving to gently grip my wrist as I continue to fuck into your mouth. 

Maybe without even realizing, you start to move your hips forward and back, humping the cushion you sit upon, trying to get any friction possible on your pussy. The sight does nothing to quell my arousal, which is becoming hard to ignore the more you make those depraved, desperate noises.

I slip my thumb from your mouth, and you barely get to cry out in protest before my mouth is on yours, fingers gripping your cheeks and coaxing you to open up. You do with a loud, muffled moan, which morphs into a surprised gasp when my tongue slips in. Your clear inexperience leaves you clumsily reacting to the contact, your own tongue moving and twitching in abrupt directions. I slow down the pace of the kiss, getting to my knees in front of you and curling my hand against the fluttering hairs of your neck, my tongue slowly massaging yours. Within a few moments, I can hear your heartbeat steadying, and you begin to grow confident with the motions of the kiss, your own movements becoming bolder as you prod your tongue further against mine, curling and licking. My other arm curves around your waist, pushing you closer to me. Your legs spread to let me rest in the gap between them, and I grip your dress tightly when I feel the mounds of your breasts against me. 

I part from you, my lips diving to your neck, latching onto your pulse point and sucking hard. Your hands fly to my back, nails digging in harder as I skim my teeth along the sensitive patch of skin. I can begin to feel it, an entirely different, but oh-so familiar urge warming within me, making a home the longer I inhale the scent of the sweat lining on your neck and dripping between your breasts. The urge to take something from you and corrupt you in a way that’s completely different from sinking my cock into you. The urge to bite, and suck, and claim you. It was usually a desire I kept at bay, taking precautionary measures with in order to avoid any sort of hasty decisions during such encounters. But, with you, and your sweet scent and bashful eyes, the urge to taste what ran through your veins was raging within me. 

I move from your neck, hoping to distract myself. I brush my fingers against the knot of your cloak, and with a small nod from you, untie it. It pools against the chair, and my eyes immediately fall to your heaving chest, just the faintest bit of cleavage exposed from your modest dress. I duck down, your hands going to my hair and tightly pulling when I run my tongue along the exposed valley, goosebumps erupting on your chest. 

I feel another tug, and suddenly, my head is being yanked back. I watch in confusion as you let go after such a harsh pull, for your face is hot with desire, eyes wide, lips wet and tongue nearly hanging out. You shift your gaze down, avoiding me as your arms work back, beginning to undo your dress. I lick my lips in anticipation, trying not to lunge and do it myself. 

You peel off the fabric, letting the top part of it crumple and hug your hips, exposing your entire torso to me in the golden light of the fire. I’m nearly speechless at the sight of your breasts, the only thing certain in my mind being that I rightfully do belong on my knees at this moment. 

You’re tugging on your bottom lip again, arms awkwardly pressing against your sides, which only pushes your breasts together even more. Your eyes wander slowly to my face, looking at me through your lashes with both lust and curiosity. “Do you like… them?”

I cannot help but chuckle at the question. “Is it even necessary to ask me that? All I can think of right now is everything I want to do to you.”

Your legs suddenly tighten together again. “I have only done this sort of thing once or twice. I’m afraid I’m not very experienced.”

I stand to my feet and extend my hand to you. “Don’t fret. We’ll have you well-practiced in no time.”

You shakily take it, and let me lead you to the North wing.

Immediately, once we are in my bed chambers, I lay you on the thick, patterned blankets, your hair resting upon the hills of pillows. Your chest rises and falls heavily, and my eyes greedily drink up the sight of your breasts. I ignore my near-to-feral needs and loosen my collar for comfort’s sake as you eagerly watch. This time, when you rub your legs together, a wet squelch can be heard and your face scrunches up in embarrassment when I raise an eyebrow. 

I step forward, hooking my fingers around the fabric bunched at your hips. With a meek nod from you, I pull it down, tugging down on your undergarments as I make my way to your feet. 

Finally, you’re clad in nothing but desire, wetness already apparent on the curls surrounding your pussy. Your thighs are aching for my fingers to bruise them, your hips begging for me to squeeze them, and your entire body ready to be worshipped. And still, such a silly girl you are, whimpering under the heat of my stare.

With a smirk, I’m crawling over your body, lowering myself for one long, wet kiss, your lips chasing mine as I back away. In the cold chill of my room, even with the fire, your body is more sensitive than before, nipples hard and perked up. I ghost the tips of my fingers around them, eyeing your every twitch and squeeze. Your body fidgets and thrusts against the air under mine, clearly aching for something more than the brief, whispering touches I’m giving to your breasts. 

I stick my tongue out and flick it against one. Your moan is high and keening.

“Beg me for more,” I murmur, going back to circling with my fingers.

You choke out a cry before folding your lips together. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“I–I can’t,” you moan. “It’s too embarrassing, too shameful.”

I flatten my tongue, dragging it long and hard against the hard bud, sending you trembling beneath me. “If your body craves it this bad, it can’t be too shameful, hm? Why hold back now when you’re so close to getting what you want?”

Your fingers squeeze around the sheets, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I… Please, I want your mouth on my breasts. I want you to touch me… roughly. Without hesitation.”

I laugh softly, squeezing your breasts with my hands as I finally close my mouth around one, licking abrasively against your tight nipple. Your body arches into my mouth, wails falling from your lips as I flick the tip of my tongue against the sensitive little nub before closing my lips around it and sucking hard. Your hips meet my clothed thigh and you begin to thrust half-mindedly, clearly trying to find some touch for your poor, neglected clit. I press my leg further into you, giving into your needs and letting you use my body to get off. I switch to your other breast, gliding my teeth against your nipples, then licking around the bump of it to soothe the sting, the sensation of it only sending more wetness coating my slacks. Feeling it hit my skin sends a burst of lust through me, and I start pressing hot, needy kisses down your stomach. You whine at the loss of my thigh, but I hush you quietly. “I’ll be taking care of you soon enough, my love.”

Your hips buck up at the promise, encouraging me to move faster until my face is finally in front of your sopping, swollen cunt. I glance at your face, my mouth twitching at the sight of you focused on the ceiling, clearly too embarrassed to watch my ministrations. But, it’s okay. I know you’ll eventually look.

I slide my arms under your thighs, pressing a kiss to one. “Please, will you open up for me?”

With a small noise, you nod, spreading your legs further until your pussy is on full display. I curse under my breath at the sight of it. I knew you’d be wet, but God, not like this. Your inner thighs are smeared with your juices, and your folds practically sheen with them. I touch two fingers to your lips, a soft gasp above me from the contact. And when I spread them, I’m licking my lips at the sight of your clit, which is jutting from under the hood, begging and desperate to be toyed with. 

I press my face into the wetness, inhaling a deep breath of your scent. A shaky cry erupts from you, and I move my nose in deeper, rubbing it against that spot right below your clit, sucking in that smell as much as I can. The urge, the one I was trying to escape from, was back, but it couldn’t matter less to me. I needed to ravage you.

I stick my tongue out, and while still deep in your cunt, I begin roughly licking you all over, sliding my tongue against your folds without relent before I reach to your clit and begin lapping at it like a person starved. I lick and lick without cease, diving into your hole and beginning to fuck you with my tongue. Your thighs shake against my head, moans and cries tumbling from those fuckable lips of yours. One hand grips the sheets, while the other curls into my hair and keeps me in place as I bob my head against your pussy, pushing my tongue in and out as fast as I can, as fast as my cock would drill into you. Your legs close against my ears, breathily saying, “Please, please, more, I just…”

I stop momentarily, feeling the cool air hit the wetness coating my chin and cheeks. “You just what?”

“I just need to come,” you sob, hips beginning to bounce on the bed from the lack of touch. “Please, please, I just, ah, God…”

Your pleas drift into the air as I get my mouth back on you, softly kissing across your entire pussy, taking my time to savour it before giving you what you need. My lips soak in your wetness, sticky and tangy, as they flatten against every inch of your folds, impatiently seizing the taste of everything you had to offer. I sigh into your cunt, praising whatever ounce of fate led you to my doorstep tonight. I finally press a tender kiss to your bulging clit, my lips perfectly hugging the round shape of it. You shudder above me, back arching and giving me the perfect view of your breasts. 

I tighten the grip of my lips on your clit and start sucking, slowly, with all the intention of exploration. I squeeze my arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to my face, as in and out, my lips grip then let go of your sweet clit. Your hand brushes my hair from my face, and I find you looking down upon me, your eyes watering and mouth forming the prettiest O, as you pant and brokenly gasp whenever I suck harder. It makes me only intensify what I’m doing, my lips beginning to tug your clit into my mouth at longer and harder intervals, putting enough pressure on that sweet spot until you’re shifting under me. And when you do, I stick my tongue out and start stroking it flatly up and down the stiff shape of it, which sends you eagerly pushing your cunt in my face.

I can feel it, hear it. Your breaths begin to come out faster and sharper, the wetness of your hole begins to leak against my tongue more, and your body heats up under my palms. I focus on what brings out the loudest noises in you, closing my eyes in concentration as I continue to apply short, stinging sucks to your clit. When I linger on one, my lips latched onto it for two moments longer, my tongue poking out to flick at it, your thighs clench and flex under my hands, your entire body shaking in one heavy wave as you release a string of cries. I moan at the sight of you, twisting and sensitive under my touch, the sensation sending your feet pressing against my back.

I continue to softly play with your clit, humming against it as your breath evens out. When you tap my head, I release with a soft pop, watching you the entire way through. 

You whimper, biting your lip.

“What is it?” I ask, wiping the back of my hand against my dripping chin.

“You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat.”

I laugh. “You have no idea.”

[fishyupmywishy]

Accidental Hero AU

I want a fic of Azula getting worse.

Like she’s down right terrible. Completely evil and she knows that. She revels in being horrible. She was going to prove her mother right. That Azula truly is a monster.

Except…

Everything she does ends up becoming something that was good.

She bombed a building and killed a bunch of people?

The building was full of human traffickers that were about to kidnap a ton of kids.

She kidnapped a noble?

The noble thought she was going to torture them and immediately spills out their plans to steal tax money from the citizens.

And Azula grows more and more frustrated because everything she does ends up being something that makes the world a better place when all she wants is to watch it all burn. Like she truly believes she is irredeemable and has no interest in getting better because if she wasn’t wanted when she wasn’t evil, why should she bother being good at all?

(and if it ends with maizulee or any other sapphic Azula ship, well🤷‍♀️)

Accidental Hero Azula sounds absolutely hilarious to me

[seattlesellie]

soccer!ellie x cheerleader!reader headcannons (sfw+nsfw) ⚽️💗 18+

this has been on my mind a lot.

ᥫ᭡ first of all, lets make it clear. ellie is a forward, and an attacking midfielder. when it comes to playing, ellie's a game maker. she's calculated, and knows exactly what she's doing. often times, you could catch her pacing around the midfield in what may seem like an aimless strut, but if you really look at her, you would notice those brain gears turning, she's thinking ahead. it's as if she gets inside her opponents brains and studies them. she knows exactly what their next move will be, and when the balls in-between her legs, her kicks are precise and calculated. while everybody else is chasing the ball, ellie already knows how to score the next goal, and a minute later? she does. oh— and it's her third one in the game already.

ᥫ᭡ when ellie scores, she can get a little cocky, but it took her some time and practice to get this comfortable. when she scored the first goal on her very first college game, she stood frozen in front of the goalie. her eyes narrowed in confusion, “did i…?”— and in a matter of exactly five seconds, her teammates were all over her. dragging her across the field, picking her up and cheering her on. ellie was so exultant and excited she swore she stopped breathing for a moment.

ᥫ᭡ now? when ellie scores... yeah, she knows exactly what she's worth. she points her finger to her ear, signals at the audience; "let me hear you", and nods her head when the chanting gets louder. when they shout; "williams! williams! williams!" her ego inflates in her chest, and she almost feels like a god— albeit, she's not annoying about it. it's just fun when people scream her name, you know?

ᥫ᭡ sometimes, ellie spots a cutie in the audience and hands her her sweat drenched tee with a shy smile. speaking of tee? her kit is a black shirt with blue stripes, and a royal blue, golden crown symbol. her nike socks are pulled up to her ankles, and when she jacks up her shirt to wipe some sweat off her sheeny forehead, she reveals her mouth watering abs, and a firm v line right on her lower abdomen. no wonder girls swoon over her, and no wonder she likes it.

ᥫ᭡ when ellie saw you in the audience, the last thing on her mind was handing you her tee. honestly, what she wanted to do was hide under a bench and bite the ball between her teeth. you made her too nervous, what could she say? you weren't just a cutie in the audience, you were drop dead gorgeous, you wore that cheerleading outfit and you cheered for her— well, for her team, and for some reason she couldn't quite recognize, you paid her no mind. you were the only one who didn't flash her flirty, playful smiles after the won a big game, and you were the only one who made her heart feel like it was dropping right to her pants.

ᥫ᭡ after scoring three goals, she finally spotted you. you had your pom pom's in your hands, and you were talking to two of your friends. after you noticed she was looking, practically staring, you raised her a small, shy smile, and her breath quickened. right when she waved at you, you turned around. then— she pretended to wave at someone else. that, led her blush to creep down to her chest. she fumbled the ball twice, almost tripped on her shoelaces and received one yellow card, that turned into two yellow cards— when she decided that arguing with the referee wouldn't be a stupid decision.

ᥫ᭡ ellie has access to her teams instagram account, so she stalks you from there. obviously, she doesn't follow you on her personal account because at the end of the day she's a terrified loser, hence why she's right here, at 9pm, on her best friends bed, logged on to the jackson's tigers. she comes across a picture of you from december. she groaned at how pretty you are, dropped her phone right on her forehead and... double tapped. "oh fuckfuckfuckfuck" "fucking hate this fucking phone... DINA! HELP" ᥫ᭡ when you asked her teammate about it the next day, ellie was near, and she turned her head to the other direction so swiftly her neck almost cracked. then, that night, she concluded that the smartest thing to do was to spam like all of the jacksons tigers cheerleaders posts and comment "out favorite cheerleaders!" on one of your pictures from practice.

you were so freaking confused.

ellie thought she was a genius.

ᥫ᭡ clearly, ellie talks about you with her teammates. she talks about you so much they practically call her a “fucking idiot” for not asking you out already. it always begins with “that one cheerleader…” and then, they immediately roll their eyes, because they know who she’s talking about, and for some reason— she refuses to use your name. she says it's because she doesn't remember it. they think it's because she's a loser. “one cheerleader”, as if there were truly any others on her mind.

ᥫ᭡ when she asked you out for the first time, it was right after a game. a 6:1 game. she felt so triumphant and the adrenaline rushed through her veins, it was almost a given. she was going to ask you out. today. right now. she walked over, fanning herself with her tee, absentmindedly flashing her abs, you looked at her and smiled so softly she felt as if she was going to choke. “good game, williams” you bubbled, and now, what fucking game and who’s fucking williams? so flustered, all she wanted to do was join the water polo team and drown herself in the pool. “hey… you want my shirt?” she muttered, could you tell she was breathless?. right, her shirt, this is the move.

“for…?” you responded, tilting your head.

she stammered, and toyed with the hem of her tee. “for um…” for? for? for? “for the…” she huffed, scratching her neck.

“for our date?”

ᥫ᭡ for your first date, she took you out for milkshakes. although they were two dollars each, she insisted on paying and nearly dropped her wallet on the floor. "no, really, let me… please?", and who could say no to that? you two practically talked about nothing and everything at the same time. she teased you about being a cheerleader; "all you do is jump around" (she knew it wasn't true, she just wanted to see how cute you'd get when you're pissed) and somehow, you weren't pissed. you responded with a grin.

"and all you do is run around and chase the ball like a dog"

ᥫ᭡ she truly felt like if she didn't kiss you right now she might die, so she did. she crawled under the booth like an idiot, and sat directly next to you. her eyes darted form your lips to your eyes, to your lips again.

"are you gonna ki—"

ᥫ᭡ the next moment you knew, her hand was on the back of your neck, and her lips crashed into yours. when she pulled away, cheeks flushed and lips still parted, she whispered a breathy "yeah, gonna kiss you".

after that night? you two were inseparable, glued by the hip.

ᥫ᭡ ellie gets incredibly in her head before games. she's slightly anxiety ridden, paces in fast circles around the room just huffing under her breath about different strategies, and what her opponents will do. "if i get a penalty kick..." she begins, and she looks so angry and pouty you have a feeling that you know exactly what's gonna help. the best remedy to her nerves? you. it's as if a comically large lightbulb appears over your head. "wait, what's a panel kick?" you question, tilting your head. you give her this pout, like you're stupid— but you know exactly what a penalty is, you've been to about ten games already. she chuckles softly under her breath and shifts her body towards you. "penalty, babe, it's penalty kick" then, you ask her to explain. she sits down on the bed, pats her thigh and signals you to sit on her lap. when you do, it begins. all she does is elliesplain soccer to you, and suddenly all of her nerves are gone. she doesn't know what you're doing, or maybe she does, but truly, she doesn't mind. your touch light as a feather, you caress her arm as she rambles on and on, and at one point— you're not even listening. you fully are just staring into her eyes, focusing on making her feel good. you get off from her lap, and signal her to place her head on your thighs. "keep going, els" you softly hum. "and then... on that one game, messi and ronaldo, like—“ then, she yawns, and her voice has that sweet, lazy raspiness to it, gets breathier and softer. she dozes off right on your thigh. when she wakes up, she huffs a small "thank you", and you know it's sincere. she kisses your jaw, gently holds your wrist, brings it up to her chaste lips, and pecks it softly. "you're too cute, you know that?"

ᥫ᭡ once you two started dating, you no longer felt like the teams cheerleader, you felt like you were ellie's, and ellie's only. obviously, you dont make it clear to them, but when you cheer— you keep your eyes glued on her. you sneak extra glances, and sweet smiles just for ellie. when the chant ends with a "go team!" you mouth her a small "go... ellie" and to that, she grins, and cocks her head.

you give ellie her final hug, before she has to go on the field. "go ellie?" she whispers in your ear. "yeah" you bite your lip, swallowing a giggle, and her hand pinches your waist. "oh yeah?", and it's so raspy and teasing that it makes your knees nearly give up on you. "good luck, williams" you kiss her on the cheek, but she tsk's, grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, in front of everybody.

"don't need luck when you're right here"

ᥫ᭡ when ellie scores, she dedicates the goal to you. she’s scanning the audience, and when she finds you, jumping up and down, clapping your hands and screaming her name, she points at you, and only at you. "this one's for you" she mouths. truthfully? all of them are. as soon as the game ends, her teams all over her. picking her up, carrying her around— that's until she spots you, sucking on your bottom lip and smiling so big it's making her heart practically melt. "wait a sec, guys..." she walks off, and when they groan, she shrugs; "gotta say hi to my girlf—" before she even finishes her sentence, you're jumping in her arms. she picks you up, spins you around and giggles so loud even her teammates can't help but join in. "you're my fucking champion, ellie" you praise, looking deep into her eyes.

"you're my champion" she won. and yet, you still are.

"but you won!!" you argue, fuck— your heads starting to spin.

"only won cause you’re here, only fucking reason" and maybe, it is.

ᥫ᭡ you made her a good luck charm bracelet, and decorated it with blue, black, golden beads. she wears it on her her left wrist, to every single game. she doesn't exactly believe in luck, but she believes in you, and she believes that somehow, every game she won was because of that charm.

nsfw 💗:

ᥫ᭡ the no sex before a big game policy her coach had forced upon the team popped like a little bubble when you two met. one time, one of her friends talked about it with you. you had no idea that was even a thing. the only sentence she said afterwards, was "if coach finds out, she's toast" oh.

ᥫ᭡ one thing about ellie is that she's obsessed with fucking you in your cheerleading outfit. makes you do a little spin, and then takes your top off. when it comes to the skirt? "leave it on, babe". she thinks it has to be a kink or something, because when she watches you cheer, your skirt slightly hiking up and revealing a little of your upper thigh, she loses her mind. she has to bite on her tongue and her face goes all red, you’re killing her— did you know that?

she's sat comfortably on the bed, dressed in her grey sweats and sports bra, whilst you demonstrate your cute little dance. "first, i have to kick my leg up" — and when you do, your panties poke through and she has to swallow hard. "yeah? what else" she places her palms on her thighs, spreads them, and keeps her eyes glued on your body. "then... a little spin" you twirl, and the air lifts your skirt up. to that, she mutters a curse word under her breath.

"do that again"

"ellie…” you whine, and before she has time to respond, you just do it again.

she nods her head up and down. "take your panties off"

you don't listen, do you? deciding on giving her that bratty attitude, she tells you again. "i said... take those panties off"

you stand in front of her, lifting your brow. she gets on her knees, places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, pats it lightly, takes them off for you and stuffs them in her pocket.

"now, do that spin again"

ᥫ᭡ when you take her strap while wearing your skirt, she truly goes crazy. makes you bounce on it as the fabric flaps around, fully just teasing her, and she's just as close to cumming as you are. "fuck! mmmph-ellie!" you wail, incoherently so, and it sounds like pure gibberish. "again, say my name again" she hisses, and now— she's practically fucking it into you, rolling her hips so you don't even have to move a muscle. the only thing you do, is spread your puffy folds open for her, hiking up your skirt so she gets a good view of your pussy and your erect little clit, pumping just for her. "i said... fuck— again" "ellie!" you gasp, and the look on her face is a look of pure bliss, of pure smugness, cocky satisfaction. "that's it…”

ᥫ᭡ when she has a big game coming up, truthfully, so do you. cheering might not be as intense, and it's not a damn competition, but you work just as hard. which is why... she makes you chant those cheering athems while she's inside of you. maybe, it'll make you remember them better.

"what comes next, huh?" she croaks, circling your clit with her thumb whilst deliciously splitting you open with her strap. "then its... it's... oh— ellie" you sob, clenching around her as if she might run away if you won't. "it's...?" she teases, and takes your cheeks between her fingers. "it's... go t—t—team" you whimper, squeaking like a dog's chew toy. "i dont think that's quite right" she manages to keep her voice steady, but her movements are anything but. she's panting, and encourages you on. "c'mon— gotta remember it f'me, you can do it" she grunts, gives your ass a little slap that makes you squirm. she grabs the fat between her palms, and nods her head. you can truly do it, you know you can. "it's... it's go el— go ellie" with the sound of her name, she fastens her pace, both inside of your achy cunt, and right on your clit. "el— el— gonna c—cu!" you cry out, holding on to her wrist while she hovers on top. "you're gonna what?" now, her voice is just as unsteady, with the base of the strap hitting her puffy, wet clit. "c—cum" when you manage to cry, it washes over you, mind boggling, makes your entire body jolt till you're shaking beneath her. she helps you ride it out,

"take it— fuck— take what's yours, take it.”

“that's my girl"

ᥫ᭡ anyways, ellie is obsessed with the way her name sounds as it leaves your mouth. obsessed with hearing you scream it, whimper it, whine it, obsessed when it comes out shaky, and obsessed when it's crystal clear. her favorite one though? "go... ellie!"

ᥫ᭡ if she loses a game... oh, what a sore loser. she puts the blame entirely on herself, especially with her new role as the teams captain. but oh, how lucky she is, to have such a considerate girlfriend. when you two got home from the game, you laid on the bed. she gave your hand a little squeeze;

"gonna shower" and she lifts her body or of the mattress. “dont wait up, babe— go to sleep"

she opens the bathroom door, and the water start streaming. you really won't go to sleep though, would you? what you do instead, oh...

you go through her bag, aimlessly looking for something... something, that will make her feel better. something that will show her she's the boss, whether she loses or wins.

her tee. "WILLIAMS" on the back, with the number "7" right below. you can't help but chuckle, grin— even, and do a little dance before you put it on. it's sweaty, damp, but you don't seem mind. you take off your shirt, your bra and your panties, and you wear it. it smells like her and it caresses right over your nipples, you almost have to stop from being so nasty and touching yourself with whilst she's showering. you're wearing her tee, her name— williams— you're hers. williams fucking girl. you sit pretty on the bed, legs wide open, and you wait. you wait and you wait and you wait— till you no longer hear the water streaming. she opens the door, and if your heart skipped a beat, ellie was pure having heart palpitations. she groaned loudly, and you almost felt the air she let out on your skin. "what is... what—“ she moves closer, and her eyes look hungry, ravenous.

"m'showing you.." you purr, in an attempt to hide the nervousness in your voice. you turn around, on all fours, purposely flashing her your ass and your cunt when the tee rides up. you point at your back. "who i belong to...”

ellie's never moved so quickly in her life, not even when she's chasing the ball. she yanks you by the tee, and pulls you closer to her chest. "yeah?" she whispers, as if she doesn't already know the answer. she nibbles on your neck, and you whimper.

"all yours... captain"

oh fuck.