#lilac lounge

[frugyy]

𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘵 ฅ^._.^ฅ

[justagirlswrld]

Thousand year old, sexy, space princess seeks companionship! must be hot!

a/n: i told you i was a mark grayson groupie.

warnings: unprotected p in v. humanoid!reader. stuff that happens in sex happens in this.

part two

“….Mark, why is there a purple…guy outside your window?”, Mark doesn’t look up from the Seance dog comic at the sound of Will’s confused voice, choosing to roll his brown eyes instead.

“Yeah, funny.”, Mark replies in an airy tone.

“No, Mark i’m ser-”, Rick cuts his boyfriend off as he walks through the front door of the apartment, “Why is there a purple man outside of the living room window?”, This finally gets Mark’s attention, he looks over at the window in question and his eyes grow triple their size.

Mark is in his suit in less than a second, comic thrown onto the couch he was just relaxing on. He floats over to the window, taking in the short, stocky….lavender man that flies just outside the apartment on deep, amethyst wings.

Mark opens the window roughly and the man scampers back, he didn’t plan on hurting the creature but it seemed like someone always wanted to fight on his days off.

Mark flies out the large window, he dwarfs the…man easily. He has an uneasy smile on his face, Mark notices that his mouth is filled with long canines and he tries not to grimace. “I’m not helping any….fairies today. so, leave.” With that Mark turns his back on him, a strong hand grasps his shoulder. In an instant Mark is zooming into the afternoon sky, holding the lilac haired creature by the collar of his thin shirt.

His purple skin now has a slight gleam from his nervous sweat. “I’m not a fairy, I come from the planet-“, Mark cuts him off, “I don’t care. Now go.”, Mark releases the being and hovers in front of him but he doesn’t budge. Mark rubs a gloved hand down his face in frustration.

”Mark Gray-“, Mark cuts him off instantly, “My name is Invincible when i’m in this suit. What do you want?”

The alien nods, “Invincible, please. I haven’t come to harm you…my planet needs your help.” Mark groans inwardly, why was it always on his day off.

The mysterious man goes on to explain how another evil alien race has come to conquer his kingdom. He paints a picture of his beautiful world being annihilated and his people being slaughtered without Mark’s help. “I’ve left it in ruins, Invincible. I’m scared I may be the only Solorian left.”

Mark points to a near by patch of forest in exasperation, “Wait there.” He flies back inside without waiting to see if the creature followed his instructions.

With major convincing from Will and Rick, Mark ends up not ghosting the…Solorian waiting in the woods. When Mark floats down through the trees to the hard ground, he’s sitting on a log with a happy expression on his face.

“Where’s your planet?”, Mark’s tone is serious, he really wanted to be back in time to watch the newest episode of this show he’d been tuning into.

The thing stands, brushing the dirt from his odd pants. Mark notices that he’s dressed like a jester, save for the pointy hat.

“It’s many galaxies from Earth, it usually takes a year to get there,-“ Mark makes a sound as he begins to protest but the man continues talking as he pulls a small, metal disc from his pocket. “But with our technology it’ll only take a minute.”

He throws the disc on the ground with his knobby fingers and its turns into a circular pad. Mark and his traveling companion step on and become engulfed in a pale yellow light. Mark only has time to blink before he’s whisked away, landing on what he assumes to be cobblestone streets.

Mark surveys his surroundings as the man picks up his transporter. There’s winged humanoids dressed almost…medievally everywhere, no one lounges as the planet’s two suns beat down on their backs.

He watches as children with skin in arrays of colors play in the waterfall and clear, blue stream. He has to crane his neck to look at the behemoth of a castle in front of him.

“This doesn’t look like ruins.”, Mark’s eyes shift as he waits for assailants to pop out from behind the thatched roofed shacks that line the street.

“Because I lied to you invincible. Walk with me and i’ll explain.”

They glide towards the castle slowly, the man, Edolan, explains that their princess refuses to marry one of her arranged suitors after hearing of his exploits on earth. They go up winding stair cases before they stop in front of a room with large, oval doors. “She says she must….meet you, before she marries.”, Edolan explains with his hands held behind his back.

“You know you could’ve said that”, is all Mark can think to say in response. Edolan nods, “Yes, I apologize for deceiving you but I had to make it seem urgent in a way you’d understand.” Edolan waves a hand and the doors creek open, “The princess is waiting for you. When you’re finished she will give you passage home the same way you came.”

And he’s gone.

When Invincible glides into your expansive room you’re draped over your canopied bed, idly playing with some alien device.

Mark wasn’t sure what he’d be dealing with when he came through the doors but he damn sure wasn’t expecting you to be pretty…beautiful even. You’re as humanoid as the rest of your subjects save for the blush pink skin and hot pink hair.

You look up at the young man standing a few feet away from you. You lick your lips and Mark is happy to notice that your mouth isn’t filled with razor sharp teeth but human like ones instead.

“Mark Grayson of Earth!”, You greet him, cheeks stretched into a wide smile. Mark blushes as you rise from a lying position to a sitting one, noticing that your breasts are only covered in a thin, bralette of shiny jewels.

“Uh-Hi, you can just call me Mark.” You rise to stand on your bed now as you mimic someone fighting, “Or Invincible! Defender of Earth and slayer of beasts and villains.”

Mark wants to argue that he doesn’t slay villains but nods his head in agreement instead, trying to end this odd experience as soon as possible.

“Right….and you’re Y/N, Solorian princess who refuses to marry until you met me…,”Mark rips his mask off, exposing his handsome face to your eyes, “Will you marry the guy now?” Your eyebrows scrunch together and your lips form a pout. Mark thinks that it’s probably the sexiest expression he’s ever seen.

“That was not the agreement. I have yet to lay with you.”, You say from your place on the bed. If Mark had been drinking something he would’ve spit it out in astonishment.

“Lay with you?”, Mark asks in a shocked tone. You laugh at the expression on the boys face, if he pushes his eyebrows any higher they’ll be on the cathedral like ceilings of your room.

“Yes, Mark Grayson. The promise was that I would finally marry an arranged suitor, saving our planet from war, if you bedded me first.” You lay back down on your large mattress as you wait for the superhero to collect himself.

Mark swallows, he’s not sure if he’s turned on or scared. Probably both. “Um, don’t princesses have to be virgins when they get married?”, you cock your head to the side like a confused dog, “I’m not familiar with the word- virgins.” The word sounds jumbled when it passes your perfect lips.

“It means you never- laid with anyone. On Earth princesses usually save themselves for their husband or their virtue or something.”

You throw your head back and laugh loudly, it’s closer to a howl really. “What a sad life these Earth princesses live. As a Solorian we live for many, many years. I am 1,000 years old, just a baby I know-,“ Mark doesn’t reply as you continue, “And I would never be asked to be a…virkin. Solorian’s find virtue in other ways than saving yourself.” You almost look disgusted as you finish your rant.

Your mind goes back to the task at hand. You unclasp the jewels from your upper and bottom half, positioning yourself so Mark can see your naked body well. You watch as his strong throat bobs.

“Will you lay with me Mark Grayson?”

Mark feels like he might combust on the spot as he nods, more excited than he hoped. He walks to the edge of the bed and sits nervously, palming himself through his suit. “On Earth we usually go on a date first.” He laughs awkwardly, willing himself to get hard. He just couldn’t get out of his head to do so.

“We are not on Earth, Mark.” You slither up his back, breasts pressing against the hard muscles. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you press soft kisses to his neck. He groans but when he palms himself again there’s nothing. Mark is perplexed on why because you were super hot and he never had this problem before. It must be how weird the situation is.

You notice the mental battle and stop kissing his neck. “Are you well?”, he nods again and you notice him palming himself. You giggle, the sound so close to his ear that it has his heart speeding up again. “You can’t ‘get it up’? As they would say on Earth”, Mark’s torn between defending himself and asking where you learned that from but chooses silence instead when you slink between his legs.

You make yourself comfortable on your pink knees and look up at him through your lashes with big doe eyes. Mark has an instant semi.

He’s rock hard by the time you slip him out of his suit and into your warm mouth. You suck unabashedly on his thick, cock hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his angry tip.

“Shhhhiiiiiittt”, Mark moans with his hand tangled in your vibrant hair, hanging on for dear life as you bob up and down his member. “St-Stop i’m gonna-.” Mark trails off, his eyes almost roll back when you choke around his length, gobbling the throbbing cock down your throat.

He finally wrestles your mouth off his cock and he takes a moment to collect himself as he breathes heavily. Mark leans down and kisses you sloppily, he tweaks your nipples hoping that it’ll do something to stimulate you sexually. Luckily it works and you moan lowly in his mouth.

Mark picks you up by your arm pits and tosses you on the bed, you laugh, “Yes! Show me your strength, invincible.” His name is sultry as it falls out your lips, causing a shudder to creep down his spine.

He flips you over roughly by your ankle then pulls you to the edge of the large bed. Mark manhandles you until your face is pressed into your thick blankets with your round ass in the air. When Mark’s tongue pushes its way between your folds you’re a moaning mess.

Mark slowly licks from your wet cunt up to your puckered hole, repeating the motion over and over again. You close your eyes tightly as your moans fill the great space of your bedroom. He uses his skilled fingers to search for your clit, praying that Solorian’s have one. When he finally finds the nub he sucks on it harshly, causing you to cry out and fall on your stomach.

Mark lets out a huff behind you, voice raspy from his previous moaning, “If you want to lay with me princess, you have to keep your back arched.” You do as he says and he continues making a mess of you with his tongue, adding two, slender fingers into your pulsating heat.

When you feel Mark’s bulbous head rubbing against your tight entrance you release a sound akin to a purr. He pushes into you slowly, inch by veiny inch until his hips are flush against your backside.

You call out for him when he pulls out of you and he answers with a moan of his own when he pushes his length back into your tight walls. Mark starts at a slow rhythm that has you moaning with each pointed thrust, still you throw your ass back to meet each one.

Mark’s pace becomes brutal and you struggle to keep up with his pounding hips. One of his large hands slides up your back and wraps securely around your neck. His full lips leaving kisses in its wake. His other hand goes between your bodies to your engorged nub, rubbing slick circles as he continues to pound in and out of you.

Your toes curl so hard that you feel like they may break when Mark hits a deep, spongy spot in your cunt. You call out his name as you come, body going completely still then slumping to your stomach. Mark continues to fuck into your spent cunt, groans turning to moans. Mark pulls out and releases warm come on your lower back and ass cheek.

He lays on his back beside you, both of you two breathing too hard to say anything to one another.

When Mark walks through his apartment door Will is waiting for him, coffee cup in hand as the early morning light peaks through the bay window. Will’s eyes go wide when he takes in his best friend, “Mark! Where have you been? Do you realize you’ve been gone for three months?!”

Mark sits down at the granite island, smiling to himself as he begins to tell his best friend about the alien pussy he had to force himself to leave.

[eyesxxyou]

First Smoke 🚬

💨・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.5k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, smoking, shotgunning smoke, dubious consent, dry humping, spanking, a bit of toxic relationship dynamics, logan is not a good person, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

You’ve always been attracted to Logan Howlett. From his strong build—broad shoulders, the fine lines of veins on his arms—to his carefree disposition. You liked the way he carried himself, confident, lumbering, like his dick was too big between his legs. You especially liked his belts. The thick, worn, leather. The large buckle was always either silver or bronze, engraved with a design.

It was a worldly lust, one you shunned for many years growing up. One you tried to pray away. A test from God to see if you could remain devout. And for a while, you were doing so good. You kept your left for him down, you prayed for the strength to face him everyday.

And then he offered you a drink.

You were back the next day, and the next, and the next. All with the promise of great pleasure and even greater corruption. You prayed every night for forgiveness and went back to commit more sins, more atrocities against your body. You never let Logan take your virginity, but he did penetrate you with his fingers nearly every day. You’ve seen his erect cock, long and thick, 8 to 9 inches of solidity, while he jerked off while fingering you. He came on your belly, just nearly missing your cunt.

You sat like a pretty, little doll in Logan's garage in white stockings with flower designs on them, a white dress dotted in lilacs that went down to your shins, a white cardigan you knitted yourself, and your iconic mary janes heels. You fiddled with the pearl necklace sitting delicately on your collarbones while your heels clicked and your cardigan fell slightly off your shoulder.

Logan was shirtless, the muscles of his sweat covered back flexing as he rummaged through his toolbox. He was beautiful, sun-kissed, pants hanging low on his lips with that thick belt of his. His hair stuck slightly to the nape of his neck.

After a moment, he grunted, closed his toolbox, and reached into his pocket for a lighter while going over to grab a cigar. He placed the thick thing between his lips and flicked his lighter.

“Isn't that dangerous, Mr. Howlett? Lighting a cigar around grease and oil and gasoline?” You ask softly, watching him take a long drag before blowing the smoke. He looked at you with a quirked brow. “Don’t worry about it, doll.” He sat down on an old chair across the garage out of the sun, fingers motioning you over to sit in his lap as you always did. He loved you in his lap, your frame so pretty on top of him, the way you squirm.

Your eyes flickered to the open garage door, rolled up all the way to let the waning sunlight in. “I can't, Mr. Howlett. Someone will see us.” And that someone will recognize you as the pastor’s daughter and inform your father that you were caught in his lap. Canoodling with not only a man, but a man twice your age. He’d never let you out of the house again.

Logan glanced out of the door. “Nah, we’re hidden behind the bike.” A lie that fell too smoothly from his lips. You both were in the corner, in the shade. Eyes would glaze right over your bodies. No one would notice you two unless they were truly taking the time to look. People rarely ever did.

You seemed to calm a little at his words and carefully made your way over to his little corner where he lounged. Logan offered out a hand to keep you steady as you hiked up the skirt of your dress a little and straddled his thighs. You placed your hands on his chest to balance yourself. You liked the hair on his chest that led down his rock solid abdomen. There was a single vein leading down below the belt.

You looked back over your shoulder at the open garage door, eyeing the street as a car passed by. Logan noticed the worry pressing wrinkles to your face, the doubt in your eyes and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of the street. Smoke came out of his nose slightly, “stop worrying.”

He took another long drag of his cigar and watched with amusement as you eyed the thing curiously. “You don't want none of this, baby. It’s too strong for you.” Logan’s hand stroked your thigh through your stockings. Your lips unintentionally formed into a small pout. You were used to being told no in your life, but Logan never did. You liked the freedom that came with being with him, even if that was at the expense of your soul. You were making dealings with the devil.

Logan sucked up smoke into his mouth and grabbed you firmly at the back of the head, pulling you in to press your lips to his. He blew the smoke between your lips and let it fill your mouth and billow down your throat. Breaking away, began to cough into the back of your hand.

“I told you; too strong for a little babydoll like you.”

The taste lingered on your lips and in your mouth, smokey, bitter. How could he possibly enjoy this stuff? He smoked and drank like it was nothing but you had remained abstemious your entire life, you weren't accustomed to the taste yet. More importantly, your lips had tasted his lips. He had so suddenly stolen your first kiss from you.

You whispered to him, “that was my first kiss.”

“Oh baby,” Logan leaned forward, chuckling softly. “That wasn't a kiss. I can show you what a real kiss looks like.” He took his cigar from his mouth, enjoying the way you shuddered as his prickly facial hair brushed against your cheek. He kissed you because he could, because he wanted to, because he knew if he didn't steal your first kiss from your delicate hands, someone else would. He had to take everything from you, be your first everything, possess you wholly.

You were awkward, squirming, unsure of what to do with your mouth, your tongue. Logan held you by the hips, pulling you ever closer, tasting of smoke, whiskey, and bad decisions rolled into one. His tongue pressed to yours, tracing and exploring every crevice of your mouth. He was not gentle with you. You were no child, you could handle it.

Your lips tasted like a medley of fruit from your lip balm and toothpaste. You were fresh, clean, so terribly pure that every lick of his tongue against yours, every orgasm he drew out of you dirtied you in the mud of sin. Your hands were clawing at his shoulders, your hips pressed down into his lap with the help of his hands.

Another car went past and you leaped away from his kiss, panting. “Someone’s going to see us, Mr. Howlett. My father will kill both of us.” Logan didn't seem to care all that much. He pulled the skirt of your dress up and pulled you down until your body pressed flush with his. Your little cunt pressed right to the large buckle of his belt.

He reached between your legs and found a weak spot in your stockings, jabbing his finger through and ripping the lacy fabric through the middle to access your pretty center. You were wearing another pair of cotton panties, white, with a little bow on the front. “Mr. Howlett.” You whined at your ruined article of clothing. You’d never be able to explain it to your parents. “Listen to me. We can't, not here.”

“We'll be fine, doll.” He grunted, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. Logan was so much stronger than you, his hand forcing you to press yourself down onto him, your cotton-covered clit catching along the design of his buckle. You gasped, shuddering, your eyes growing heavy. Your hands on his shoulders, rubbing his chest. You weren't like you were before. Timid. Afraid. You were scandalous in a way you never thought you would be. You took the time to grind your hips against his buckle, finding just the right ridge to play with your clit.

How he's tainted you.

Logan leaned back, smoking with a serene smirk while he watched you take your pleasure against his belt. It was quite the show. Your fingers against his solid chest, your eyes fluttered to a close, the way you humped him almost like a desperate bitch in heat. Dulcet moans passed your lips like a song, silky and sweet with a touch of depravity.

“Oooh– Mr. Howlett~” You liked all the bumps and ridges of the design on his buckle, the way it all tickled your pussy at just the right spots and angles. Logan stroked your hip with his free hand, smoking with his other. You were all whiny and squeaky, already falling apart in his lap. He’s made you something monstrous, disgusting. And you liked it.

You were soaking through your panties. Any other time you would have been humiliated, the sin of your lust. But oh, you were hitting all the right spots and you couldn't hear anything beyond the ringing in your ears. Someone could have walked right into Logan's garage and witnessed you pleasuring yourself on his belt of all things and you would have hardly noticed.

Logan, thoroughly amused, took a long drag from his cigar and blew it into your face. You felt a little hazy, whining a little. “Stop.” He did it again, smiling and chuckling lowly as you squirmed. “I can get the whiskey out again, doll. You seem to enjoy yourself better when you’re drunk.”

You shook your head. “Nuh uh, let me– let me keep going. I'm…enjoying myself– just fine.” You squeaked as you found a little nub to rub your bundle of nerves across. You could feel everything as if you didn't have any panties on at all. Your underwear stuck to your cunt like a second sink, so thin that it might as well not be there in the first place.

You were a sensitive little thing. Getting you to cum was an easy task. A few clicks at your clit, a few dirty words in your ear, and you were melting into a puddle in his lap. This time, you were doing it all by yourself, showing off all you had learned. But there was nothing quite satisfying about that. Logan liked his unwavering control over you.

So as you teetered towards the edge of relief, Logan grunted, “Don't you cum until I tell you to.” There was a warning hidden behind his voice. There would be consequences if you disobeyed. You were used to obeying, you just found a new master to serve. 

You cried softly. “No, no, no, ‘m so close,” you slurred, rutting your hips like a wild animal. Logan tapped his cigar off the side of the chair before placing it back between his lips. “Don't you dare, doll.” It threatened unknown possibilities, an infinity of punishments. “I’ll march you out into the street and finger you in the front yard. Everyone will see you for the slut you are.”

He’d never actually do it. Logan would like to keep the sight of you cumming to himself alone, but the threat was enough to keep you at bay, to keep his firm control over you.

You shook your head wildly, still rubbing and humping, tears pricking your eyes. “No, please–” You wept at the thought of being ousted from your community, disowned by your family, made to be some shameless whore on the street. A man like Logan would never marry you. He'd never make you his wife. He liked playing with the hearts of little girls like you, who didn't know any better.

So you try your best not to cum with tears streaking your face, tears that only make Logan harder. You look so pretty when you cry. Partially from pleasure, partially from fear, maybe some pain. Your legs trembled with the weight of an orgasm denied.

You went like this for 2 orgasms. Your pussy rubbed red and puffy through your panties, a wet patch on the crotch of his pants from your dripping cunt. “I can't! I can't, Mr. Howlett.” You were sobbing hysterically. Your entire body shook violently with your next orgasm that rushed you like a freight train and came with a hot flash throughout your entire body.

Logan watched you cum on his belt, pussy pulsing and rubbing. You almost went cross-eyed, how cute. Your cheeks were dripping wet with salty tears he could just lick right off your face if he so desired. He liked seeing you cry, liked the way you sobbed like you had no sense.

You were panting, aching, nearly fell right off his lap if he didn't catch you. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry. Please don't take me to the yard. My– my family will never look at me the same.” You murmured out your words, still crying like a baby.

“I ain't gonna take you to the yard, doll.” Logan, thoroughly amused by your panic, guided you to lay over his lap with your ass facing the open garage door. “I am gonna give you a spanking though.” He smiled at the whimper you let out; his hand flipping up your skirt to reveal your ripped stockings and soaked through panties.

You were reminded of when you were a little girl, in your father's lap when he would spank you for doing something bad. You wiggled and writhed with anticipation, fingers gripping his thigh. Logan soothed his hand over the soft skin of your ass as he gripped great handfuls of flesh into his palms.

The first one came with a great ring of skin against skin. You yelped, lunging forward. More tears, more childish crying. Logan rubbed the spot where he spanked you to soothe the pain. “Quiet down. You don't want anyone to get curious, do you?” You shook your head with feverish intent. You couldn't have anyone looking this way, watching you get spanked, reporting back to your father.

Logan raised his hand and brought it down against your other asscheek. You bit your lip to stifle the sob that threatened to leave you. You did the same when he spanked you again and again, biting so hard you could taste the metallic beginnings of blood.

In total, Logan spanked you 15 times before he deemed it enough and let you up. You were shaking like a startled dog, your once neat, pinned up hair now ruined, your dress wrinkled, your stockings ripped. You were a beautiful mess. His beautiful mess. He was ruining you.

“Come here, babydoll.” Logan coaxed you towards him as he put out his cigar in the ashtray nearby. He took you by the hips and pulled you back into his lap. You were so small and meek, you didn't even fight.

Logan brushed your hair out of your face, carefully fixing it back up with various bands and clips until it looked reasonably neat again. He was gentle for once, taking your chin in between his fingers, and he kissed you. He was tender with that too, licking the blood from your bottom lip with a smile.

Logan always had a habit of destroying his favorite toys.

[oneeyedlove]

Peace.

summary | you find yourself striding towards Aemond’s chambers to confront him about his behavior at dinner, things take a turn.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Strong niece!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! Unprotected sex. PinV, arguing, mentions of violence, chocking, incest, creampie, cockwarming (?).

wordcount | 4.6 k

note | this is my first time writing smut so cut me some slack plss, english is not my first language and I don’t know if i like this.

The pounding of determined steps echoed through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s holdfast as you made your way towards a certain prince’s chambers. Surprised as you were that your family whistood dinner without altercations as far as they did, the feeling of hope for a truce between the opposite sides of House Targaryen died the moment that word escaped Aemond’s lips. Spiteful litte things he and Aegon were, endlessly searching for a wound to poke at— that was usually found in your brother’s tempers.

Your and your siblings’ bastardy was no secret to any soul who paid attention although it didn’t bother you in the least. Having known fatherly love from three different men as your mother’s only daughter made your upbringing eventul, but it did not stop you from becomig a bright and optmistic young woman. Said optimism being the reason why tonight’s sudden quarrel left such anguish in your heart.

Placed between Jacaerys and Aegon at the dinner table, your finger tracing the rim of the wine cup by your side, you could not help but daydream about the pleasantness of this evening extending itself into daily life. The muffled laughter Lucerys emitted pulled you back into reality and the smile faded from your face at the sight of a pig stowed before the one eyed prince. Your brown eyes met his lilac one as he stood, your pleading gaze exchanged in vain for he said the dreadful phrase regardless.

You blamed him as you paced before the hidden entrance of the silver prince’s chambers, pondering whether it would be wise to burst in unannounced— it most likely was not. Aemond was never one to display his thoughts without an ulterior motive, so invading his personal lounge would be an open attempt at understanding him, a desire you had hoped would remain silent in your heart. Against better judgment, you stepped through the stone wall by his bed. Shivering at the frigidness in your stomach, you took in the room. It looked uneasily tidy as you touched the soft linens on the bed with the tip of your fingers, thinking it was obvious the stoic prince would have an obnoxiously clean chamber. The moment your eyes found the back of his head a breath stuck in your lungs, fearing he would sense your presence.

Seated in the armchair before the fireplace, he twirled a golden coin between his knuckles, watching it’s mesmerizing choreography. Aemond had noted your presence long before you entered his apartments, the sounds of your nervous marching thundered in his ears. However, the hour of the wolf was an unexpected moment for you to come to him. He reckoned you would confront him after the events of dinner, but never would have thought to meet your scolding outside the security of daylight.

You crept further into the chamber, standing a mere five paces behind him as your heartbeat roared in your chest. If the prince had not heard you before, he certainly had now. A smirk hid from your gaze as he placed the coin on the armrest’s leather, Aemond amusingly waited your words.

“Uncle.” Your voice escaped your lips, sounding more hesitant than you intended to.

His body rigid as a pillar, the silver haired man slowly rose to his feet, his shoulders broad and muscular. He took a deep breath as he caught your eyes with his good one, his penetrating gaze watching your every move. When he finally spoke, a familiar, biting tone filled your ears.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, dear niece?”

“I wish to speak about your behavior at dinner.” As much as you tried not to sound as a wounded child, the tartness in your mouth was filled with youthful resentment.

“Are you here to yell at me, then?” He cocked his head, your eyes gleaming under the candlelight as his gaze traveled from your face to your feet, taking in your features.

The prince would never consider himself a foolish man. Every piece of him sculpted through years of exhaustive dedication, he had scraped each flawed aspect of his mind and body until it reached perfection. Aemond had disciplined his thoughts and actions towards any living creature ever since claiming Vhagar, with all but one exception: you. It was pathetic, really, how his tamed heart turned moronic in your presence. Your laughter had welded itself into his soul from the moment he first heard it as a boy, his secret devotion never surrendering to the test of time.

As if a plague crawling inside him, the yearning for your affection clouded his judgment, forcing his dutifulness out of reach. It was easy to hate Rhaenyra and her progeny, his mother had taught him their mere existence was a disgrace to the realm, a sin that tarnished the mighty House Targaryen. Nevertheless, your impertinence in addressing him this way could only lengthen his doubts — the narrative that someone withholding of such kindness and loyalty could be unholy was ludicrous in the least.

"Why must you be insufferable at all times?" You gave in to the infantile urges that plagued you, rolling your eyes at him — being almost a woman grown, it was shameful how he managed to get underneath your skin, even if you did not show it as much as your brothers.

Aemond chuckled darkly, his lips curving up in a twisted smile as he watched you. He took a step closer, his stride slow, calm, much like a hunter stalking his prey. You knew he could hide his boyish petulance far better than yourself and yet a glimmer of irritation from your words could be seen in his lilac eye.

“Did I strike a nerve?” He asked, taking another step closer, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Or are you just sore from me speaking the truth?

"Your jab at my bastardy brings me no pain, Aemond. I have never denied the truth." The boiling in your blood had not come from his insults, you were already used to them.

"The insufferableness I refer to is your need to ruin everything."

“And you expect me to believe that you’re here simply because I ‘ruined dinner?’” Aemond chuckled again, his smirk widening at your insolent stare.

"You ruined the chance our family had to start anew, to forget about all the resentment and rage. I am aware of your hate towards Lucerys for maiming you that night at Driftmark, but can't you find it in yourself to forget? We were children." Even as your pleads traveled across the room, your newfound confidence maintained a stern tone in your voice.

His expression changed, a flicker of something grim passing through his eye. His jaw clenched and the smirk disappeared, though he took another step further, his figure looming over yours. He reached a hand out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“Forget?” He asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

“How do you expect me to forget, when it was your bastard brother who stole me my eye?”

"You lost an eye but you gained a dragon, as you said so yourself.“ You pushed his hand away, releasing yourself from his grasp as you took a step back.

“None of us mourn your eye anymore Aemond, not even your childish self."

Your touch in his hand lingered in his skin, even if it had been brief— to push him away. His thoughts raced through his mind, how could you expect him to forgive it? The incident at Driftmark surely won him Vhagar, but it earned him humiliation and disgust all the same. He could not bear the glares bestowed upon his scar, some filled with pity, others with repulse and fear. Her brother had left him crippled, a prince that would never be whole. In one swift motion, Aemond grabbed your throat, forcing you to stumble backwards until your back hit the pillar beside the chamber’s sitting room. The cold stone pressed against your body as his fingers dug into your skin.

“Do not speak of matters you know nothing of.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Even as stings of pain cut into the muscles of your neck, you had not flinched, the ire you suppressed for so long consuming you entirely. Your eyes seeing nothing but red, a hand met his face as a loud thud vibrated through the chamber. You had punched him. He recoiled from the hit, his cheek stinging and his face shocked. He brought a free hand up to his face to touch his now bruised cheek. It stung, but something about the feeling made him hungry for more.

“You shouldn’t have done tha—.” He spat his words before you interrupted him.

“Take my eye.” You brought your hands to hold his wrist, hoping it would make him soften his grip.

“Take it. Have your revenge and be done with all this bother.” Your gaze never flickered, staring at him with determination in your eyes.

He was surprised, to say the least. He didn’t expect you to say something like that, and for a moment he just held you in place, his breath coming out in ragged breaths as he looked down at you. The prince studied your face, looking for a sign of deceit, for a hint of fear, but all he found was defiant eyes looking back at him. He grunted, a deep, guttural sound from the back of his throat.

“Is that what you want?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I will do what I must to protect my blood. If this will help in mending our family it is a price I'll gladly pay."

“You would do that for your bastard brothers?” He asked quietly, a hint of disbelief in his voice as pressed closer to you, his body trapping you against the wall as he moved his hand from your neck to gently place his fingers on your jawline.

"I would do it for anyone in this family if it gave us peace.“ You said, feeling your skin tingle at his soft touch.

“Even you.”

Truer words had never been said. You had no desire to lose an eye, naturally, but if it was the needed punishment you would receive it without hesitation. If it had to be you, you would do it for your relatives, for yourself, for him. For the boy you loved so dearly, the sweet version of Aemond that was shy and gentle — he deserved better. You knew he was trapped inside of the villainous mask the prince wore but was still there. And you would love him eternally, all of him, all the dark fragments of who he now was. Although, he could never let you. So you would allow your adoration succumb to violence if it would succeed in attaining peace.

The words cut him like an arrow through the heart. He felt his muscles tense and for a moment he was sure he would squeeze your throat and end it right there. But something stopped him, whether it was your words or the fact that having your face so close, gleaming in the soft light of the fireplace, made something inside him soften. He finally found it in your eyes, what he searched for so long — the same cherishing ardor he hid inside himself. His eye flickered desperately in its socket, he had to be sure it wasn’t a dream, a cruel jest his subconscious was playing on him. But it was real. Aemond knew, right then and there, that he could have the whole world at his feet and he would still beg on his knees for you.

He watched your eyes gazing over his face, taking in your expression as his change took place. He saw the way your eyes became hazy, the way your lips parted slightly as if to say something but then closed shut again. He could feel the heat pooling in his lower abdomen, a wave of burning hunger flowing through his veins. Relishing in the feel of your small frame, your breath hitching as your chest rose and fell against his, so innocent and yet calling to him like a siren.

Before you could fathom what provoked his sudden change in demeanor, he clashed his lips into yours. The kiss was rough and desperate, a collision of teeth and tongue as he pressed your body into the wall. You moved your hands to his chest, tiny and soft against the hard muscle. He felt something tighten in his groin and he groaned into the kiss, his tongue desperately searching for more of yours. He tasted you — sweet, like sugarcane and vanilla, and he couldn’t get enough. If he had known how intoxicating your touch would be, he would have indulged in it until he made himself a drunkard.

He pushed his body closer to yours, pinning you completely against the wall, his knee coming between your legs automatically as he continued the hungry assault on your mouth. You weren’t unholy, he could see it now. But if loving you was a sin, he would gladly worship your wickedness.

He placed his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he parted his lips from yours. Your foreheads touching as he opened his eye to look for your reaction, your face was flushed, your lips bruised and swollen from his rough kisses — he found the sight unbelievably arousing. You had not expected him to ignore your demand to gauge out your eye, thinking his hatred was everything you could ever have, much less kiss you. The longing and passion emanating from his touch made it clear he had been hiding from you for this long, but there was still a piece of you that needed to be sure.

Your eyes looked up at him, his lips red from friction and his luscious hair messier than usual. You could feel his hardened length on your upper thigh, the feeling sending chills through your body. You wanted him, the gods know you did, but he needed to show you his feelings were honest.

“Tell me this is real.” You said as your fingers traced soft patterns over his black tunic.

He stared at you in confusion for a brief moment, then realizing you had the same doubts he had. A loving smile made its way into his face as he spoke, the once familiar anger that filled his voice was now replaced with pure adoration.

“I need you. I have always needed you.” He whispered, the words twirling out of his lips.

“Then have me.” You said, a new sense of confidence washing over you alongside a heat that pooled in your belly.

Aemond’s eye widened as you kissed him, the action catching him off guard. It took him a moment to process that was you were asking, but when he did; he grabbed your waist and pushed you further into the stone wall. He leaned down, towering over you as he did, and kissed you back. Hard. As a soft moan hit his ear, a wave a desire washed over him. He felt an instinct, a burning need to hear more of those sounds escape your mouth. He wanted to hear you cry and moan and gasp for breath, and he wanted to be the only one to hear it.

Your hands found the back of his head, your fingers interwoven in his silver hair as you pulled him closer. His leg pressed itself again into your core, the heat stemming from your cunt could surely be felt through the fabric of your dress. His fingers digging almost painfully into your hips, he moved his other hand down, grabbing your leg and pulling it over his hip, pressing his body against yours and pinning you there.

He broke the kiss, panting, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. He nipped and kissed your skin as if he were a starved man. Aemond had treasured you in secret for so long, the feeling of being held in the same regard by you made his head spin — you would be his forever, he had to make sure of that.

The sensitive skin of your neck reddened at each teasing action he bestowed upon it, your body aching in desire. He relished the small gasps and mewls that the simple action of his mouth against your flesh caused you to make. The soft, reddening mark he was leaving on your skin, from his lips and teeth as he marked you as his own, making him more and more possessive with every soft bite. His grip on your hip became more firmer, his hand on your waist digging in, no doubt leaving his mark there too.

You had never been touched like this before and it felt good, the thought of giving yourself to Aemond felt right somehow. Your hands found the metal buckles of his tunic, hastening to undo them and reveal his pale chest. He shivered at the feeling of your fingernails running over his bare abdomen, trails of yearning left behind. The prince could feel himself coming undone at the simple action. He was like a young boy again, his inexperience showing through how he reacted so readily to being touched. He grabbed your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head against the wall, to stop you from exploring any further. His other hand began to roam over your body, gripping your thigh and moving higher until his hand disappeared under your skirts.

You let out a loud whine as his finger slipped over your drenched slit, waves of pleasure sent through your being. You felt yourself melting as he explored your folds at an ungodly slow pace, the tip of his long finger pressing against your pearl. He let out a soft snicker into your ear as he heard the sound that escaped your lips, a smirk of satisfaction appearing on his own. He nipped at your earlobe as he slowly pushed a long, lean finger into you. He let out a soft huff of air, as he felt how warm and tight you were. He slowly began to move inside you, at the same painfully slow pace. As his thumb began to slowly rub your clit, you were sure your cries had been heard from outside his chamber — and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Aemond watched as you closed your eyes and opened your mouth, and he smiled at the sight of your pleasure. He watched as your hips slightly bucked to meet his touch, and he took it as a sign to be rougher, and to give you even more. He moved faster and harder as he touched you, his thumb rubbing against you in a circular motion. The prince felt his breathing get shaky as sounds of your whimpers and moans filled his ears. The feel of your body trembling in pleasure, your arms wrapping around him and you scratching the back of his neck brought him nothing but complete ecstasy. He felt your body shuddering as your release washed over you, and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan of his own in response, relishing the sounds and the feeling of you being so overwhelmed under his touch.

You let out a cry at the loss of his finger, but he left you no time to argue as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you so your back was pressed onto his chest. The prince found the lacings of your corset, undoing them and revealing your bare skin. He turned you to face him again, the lace that had been covering your chest, was now on the floor and you were only left with your thin shift. He could see your figure through the translucent fabric, could see the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed faster and harder.

He led you, by the hips, over to the bed and slowly pushed you down until you were on your back. Aemond loomed over you, taking a moment to look down, eyes roaming over your body as he admired the sight of you on his bed, flushed, half naked and panting. You looked magnificent, he was sure you were the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms — and he reveled in the fact that you were his.

You never took your eyes off him, as embarrassed as you were to have his eyes scan your body like a madman. Watching as he undid the laces of his breeches, you let out a soft gasp as he kicked the fabric alongside his small clothes to the floor, kneeling over you completely bare. He was lean, strong and pale, covered in a fine layer of small white scars — surely obtained through sword fighting. There was a small dusting of silver hair that started at his pelvis and traveled up his abdomen. Your eyes found his cock, long and hard, pulsating with desire.

You furrowed your brows and sat up in the bed, grabbing the end of your shift and pulling it over your head. You saw Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of your naked body, feeling a small satisfaction in knowing he wanted you this much. He was mesmerizing, a true Valyrian beauty, and it delighted you to know he was yours.

“I want to see all of you.” You whispered, staring at his eyepatch.

Aemond’s good eye widened as he understood what you meant. He was used to aversion and horror being directed towards his deformity and never thought someone would ever want to see it in such a moment. He hesitated before moving his arm up and seizing the black leather in his hand, letting it fall to the bed. A sapphire eye cut through with a reddened scar stares back at you, the candlelight shining in the deep blue of the gem. You moved your hand to the side of his face and admired him, feeling his uneasiness at being vulnerable before you.

“It is beautiful.” You say as tenderness fills your heart.

The prince wasted no time as he pulled you into a deep kiss. He felt unconditionally happy at your response, the need he held growing stronger as he laid you back into the mattress. His hand cupped your breast, fondling the peak in devotion as the other found your waist. He let out a groan at the touch of his cockhead against your bare cunt, pleasure ripping through his body.

“I cannot wait any longer.” He said in ragged breaths.

You nodded in response and that was all he needed for order for him to give in to the craving he felt for you. He moved his hands and placed them instead on your hips, holding your body down on the bed as he positioned himself on top of you. He looked down at your frame, his heart racing with need and anticipation, as he looked into your eyes.

"Tell me if I need to stop." He said gently, before slowly pushing his hips forward against your body.

You gasped alongside him as you felt his cock stretch your walls, the foreign sensation striking painfully. He kissed you gently as he could feel how your body was adjusting to him, how tight you were around his length, and it made him feel completely overwhelmed. He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, looking down at you as he slowly pushed deeper inside. You stayed like that for a moment, letting yourself get used to accommodating him.

After what Aemond felt like were hours, he noticed you bucking your hips forward, pleasuring yourself. He smirked at the sight and your hips moving against him made the silver prince feel an insane wave of desire wash over him. He knew you were enjoying it, and it only made him feel hungrier for you. He began to move his hips back and forth, in a slow, gentle back and forth motion at first. Feeling himself almost losing control as he looked down at you, your expression filled with nothing but pleasure and satisfaction.

“Aemond.” You let out.

He could feel the desire within him become almost uncontrollable as he heard your lustful words. He felt a rush of adrenaline running through him as he looked down at you, your body underneath him, and all he could think about was how good you felt. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward again, this time with a little more force and speed than before. And again, and again, until he was completely lost in the sensation of you and the feeling of having you underneath him.

You were in pure ecstasy, lost in the feeling of being with him. The sound of his heavy breaths and the pleasure filled sounds leaving his mouth made your body shiver in response. He continued to move his hips, back and forth in a rougher and faster pace, holding you closer to him as you felt the tightening in your belly grow more and more intense. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, scratching his back to mark him as he did you.

The memories of your childhood together filled his mind. How you would read together in the library, how you defended him from his brother and yours and especially how you laughed so easily in his presence. He loved how you were filled with so much joy, a true beam of sunlight inside the Red Keep. He knew then how you would intertwine yourself into his heart and take it for yourself — and he let you.

Aemond could feel his climax growing closer, the feeling of your full breasts against him and your body shaking in response becoming too much to hold back. He felt like he had died and found himself in the greatest of heavens, all he wanted to do was surrender himself completely to the moment.

"I’m close." He said faintly, his breathing ragged and his heart beating faster with every passing second.

Your tightened your grip on his back, your nails digging into his skin, filling him with a mixture of pleasure and pain. It was just the right thing to send him over the edge, to make his body give in completely. He let out a low, guttural moan as he felt himself reach his peak, and he felt both your bodies shake in response to the overwhelming euphoria that washed over them. He sent a few more thrusts inside you, your walls clenching as you took his seed.

You two stayed that way, a mess of sweat and disheveled breaths as you rode out of your trance. His hand drew patterns on your outer tight while you ran your fingers through his silver locks, both hearts brimming with love. You longed for each other in secret for years, miserable at the thought of having the other’s hatred to call their own. But now, caged in a chaos of limbs over the soft linens of his bed, it all felt far away, for he was yours and you were his.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your skin.

“I love you as well.” You answered, a soft smile on your lips.

There could never be a truce over the divide that wedged itself between the sides of mighty House Targaryen, but you would be each other’s peace.

From now until death parts you.

[eclipixels]

Sink

Rafayel x Reader

Content: You can't swim, unbeknownst to Rafayel

[2,132 words]

      You never learned how to swim. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to, you just… never did. Somehow, life had just happened, and the skill had never made it onto your list of priorities. Honestly, you were still surprised they let you pass the hunter's exam without it. In hindsight, maybe that should’ve been a red flag.

      What you definitely never expected was to end up dating a Lemurian, whose entire thing was swimming.It had never been a problem before.

      Until now.

      Rafayel had asked you to come with him to one of the small islands off the coast to collect some protocores for his art. At first, you refused, because the last time you agreed to “help” him, you almost died of a headahe caused by yours truly.

      But then he begged.

      And begged.

      And kept begging, his voice slipping into that smug-yet-somehow-irresistible drawl, all while he leaned in close, violet hair brushing against your skin, glowing eyes locked onto yours like he knew you were about to cave.

      And you did.

      Like an idiot.

      And now here you are.

      "Rafayel, is the boat supposed to be filling up with water?" You let out a nervous laugh, watching with growing horror as the canoe sloshed and rocked beneath you, an alarming amount of seawater sloshing in.

      Rafayel, lounging at the other end of the boat like he wasn’t about to sink into the abyss, barely spared the situation a glance.

      "Hm?" He flicked his glowing gaze toward the rising water, then shrugged. "No."

      Your heart stopped.

      "What?" you screeched, gripping the sides of the canoe with white-knuckled panic. "Rafayel, we are literally sinking! Do something!"

      Before he could answer with some careless remark, a rough tide surged against the boat.

      And just like that, the ocean yeeted you both overboard.

      One moment, you were panicking about the water in the boat, and the next, there was no boat at all, just open sea and the horrifying realization that you were now in it.

      You hit the water with a spectacular splash, flailing like a terrified cat thrown into a bathtub. Saltwater rushed up your nose, your limbs twisted in every direction, and for a horrifying second, you had no idea which way was up.

      You never thought your life would end like this, kicking, screaming, and flailing like some sort of demented fish out of water. Except, in this case, you were very much in the water, and very much drowning. Meanwhile, your so-called boyfriend, the ever-unbothered Lemurian prince, stood just a few feet away, knee-deep in the surf, watching your impending demise with all the urgency of a man leisurely deciding what to order for dinner.

      "Rafayel!" you shrieked, voice cracking with desperation as you inhaled a mouthful of saltwater. You choked, sputtering, arms thrashing wildly against the relentless pull of the waves. “I’m dying!”

      Rafayel, in all his infuriating, otherworldly grace, simply tilted his head to the side. His lilac hair fluttered in the sea breeze, glowing bioluminescent markings pulsing faintly along his skin like he had all the time in the world. He regarded you with the same curiosity one might reserve for watching a particularly dumb bird fly into a glass window.

      “Huh,” he mused.

      Huh? The fuck he mean ‘huh’?

      You barely had time to process the sheer audacity of this man before another wave crashed over you, momentarily pulling you under. You surfaced with a spluttering gasp, panic sinking its claws into your chest as you flailed harder. Your limbs felt like dead weight, dragging you down with every second.

      "Help me!” you howled, arms slapping at the water in a way that probably made you look more like a malfunctioning wind-up toy than a person fighting for her life.

      A small, amused smile tugged at his lips, the only betrayal of whatever amusement he was clearly getting out of this. But did he move? No. No, he did not. Instead, he just let out a long, drawn-out sigh—as if you were the inconvenience here. As if your very real, very valid fear of imminent death by drowning was nothing more than an overblown inconvenience to his otherwise peaceful day.

      “You’re making this harder than it has to be, Y/N,” he drawled, finally, finally stepping forward with the air of someone being forced to deal with a particularly persistent child. Then, without even a hint of effort, he reached out, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you clean out of the water.

      Like. A. Toddler.

      Your arms and legs dangled uselessly for a moment, saltwater dripping from your clothes as you gaped at him in pure, seething betrayal.

      "Oh, now you help," you snapped, regaining your senses enough to latch onto him like a drowning cat, your nails digging into his back with intent.

      “I could have died, Rafayel! Drowned! Gone forever! And what were you doing?” You narrowed your eyes, rage bubbling hotter than the embarrassment coursing through you. “Watching? Enjoying my suffering?”

      Rafayel blinked at you, expression unreadable as his glowing gaze met yours. Then, with the audacity of a man who has never once suffered the consequences of his own actions, he simply said—

      “You should’ve just swum.”

      You stared at him, dumbfounded.

      A moment of silence passed.

      Then, deadpan, voice flat as the calm sea beneath him, you spat, "I can’t swim, you fish brained sea-rat."

      His lips quirked slightly, his expression almost, but not quite, apologetic.

      "That's unfortunate," he murmured, the words dripping with so much faux sympathy that you seriously considered just launching yourself back into the ocean to die out of sheer spite.

      Before you could fully unleash the absolute onslaught of rage simmering within you, the kind of rage only born from near-death experiences and insufferably attractive boyfriends, Rafayel did the most unfair thing imaginable.

      He kissed you.

      Your brain short-circuited.

      One moment, you were poised to yell, to fight, to maybe sink your teeth into his stupidly perfect flesh in revenge, and the next? His lips were on yours, warm and infuriatingly soft, pressing against yours with an ease that suggested he’d been planning this from the start.

      Your entire thought process derailed, skidding off the metaphorical road and crashing straight into the ocean floor.

      You were kissing a prince. A literal sea god. Your fingers twitched against his neck, your breath caught somewhere in your throat, your heart hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to swim away on its own. You barely had time to process the weight of the moment before—

      Splash!

      You hit the water.

      Again.

      "RAFA—BLURBGLH—" You barely got half his name out before you were swallowed whole by the ocean, sinking like an actual rock.

      The moment you resurfaced, coughing, sputtering, and gasping for air, your first thought was murder. You were going to kill him.

      You were—

      Wait.

      You furrowed your brows, blinking through the salty sting in your eyes but there was no salty sting. Something was… off.

      Why weren’t you… drowning?

      Your lungs felt fine. No burning, no struggle, no desperate gasps for air. You instinctively sucked in a breath, expecting to choke, to cough, to die.

      But instead—

      Holy hell.

      You could breathe.

      Underwater.

      Before you could even begin to process the absolute insanity of what was happening, before you could come to terms with the fact that you were somehow breathing underwater, something cold and unfamiliar wrapped around your leg.

      Instant, unfiltered terror shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

      You shrieked, not that it did much good underwater, as bubbles exploded from your mouth in a frantic, garbled mess. Your limbs flailed wildly, your body twisting in every direction, every primal instinct screaming at you to fight before some monstrous sea creature dragged you into the abyss, never to be seen again.

      But then, through the chaos of your own panic, you saw him.

      Rafayel.

      Floating effortlessly below you, utterly unbothered, shoulders shaking as if he was holding back the world's most obnoxious laugh. His bioluminescent markings pulsed with a soft glow, casting eerie, shifting light through the water. His long, violet hair drifted around him like a silk curtain, shimmering in the dim ocean light. And there, wrapped around your leg was his stupid hand.

      This fish-brained, sadistic menace had deliberately scared you for fun.

      You narrowed your eyes so hard you were surprised the water pressure didn’t crush your skull.

      Fury ignited in your chest as you kicked at him, your foot landing against his arm. Not hard enough to actually hurt, but definitely hard enough to make it very clear that you were out for blood.

      “I hate you!” you yelled, or at least, you tried to, but since you were underwater, it mostly just came out as a series of distorted bubbles and aggressive body language.

      Rafayel didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

      Instead, he grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he tugged you closer, effortlessly dragging you through the water like you weighed nothing.

      "You love me," he said, smug and self-assured, as if the fact was as unchangeable as the tides.

      Your glare burned with the force of a thousand dying stars.

      And yet, despite everything, despite the sheer audacity of this infuriating sea prince, despite the fact that he had literally let you think you were drowning, despite the overwhelming urge to slap him with a wet fish, you couldn’t deny it.

      You did love him.

      Even if he was, without a doubt, the most insufferable, smug, irritatingly beautiful menace to ever exist.

      "Did you seriously think I’d let you die?" Rafayel's voice was calm, but there was something else beneath it. Something ancient, certain. "I've been waiting over a century for you to return to me."

      You barely processed his words as you clung to him, hands fisting into the smooth, iridescent skin of his back. Your whole body was trembling, but whether it was from the cold, the fear, or the sheer insanity of this entire situation, you didn’t know.

      "What?" Your voice trembled. He always said weird, cryptic things like that, but he never explained them. Normally, you would’ve pressed him for answers, but right now, you had bigger concerns. Like, for example, the very real possibility of being crushed by the pressure of the deep sea.

      It was dark down here.

      Rafayel had told you before that life in the deepest depths of the sea had no light. Experiencing it was horrifying.

      You couldn’t see anything.

      The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on all sides like a living thing. You had no sense of direction, no way of knowing what lurked just beyond your reach.

      "How am I able to breathe underwater?" You finally managed to ask.

      Rafayel chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Shouldn’t you know the answer to that, Cutie? You bought that book on understanding Lemurians."

      Your mind raced. That stupid textbook. The one written by a human who had clearly never met an actual Lemurian in their life. Half of the book had been filled with biases and misinformation.

      You shook your head, frustrated. "That book was useless."

      Rafayel came to a stop in front of you. His glowing eyes studied you for a moment before he smiled.

      "Kissing a Lemurian allows you to breathe underwater for a bit," he admitted.

      You stared at him. "Oh."

      That was all you could say. Oh.

      Because what else was there to say? Rafayel had literally shoved you into the ocean with zero context and expected you to just figure it out. You had been drowning and his solution had been to just make out with you instead of, oh, you know, telling you beforehand.

      You opened your mouth, fully prepared to chew him out, but then another shiver wracked your body. "I’m cold. I can’t see."

      Rafayel hummed, and before you could react, he wrapped himself around your waist and pulled you close. You barely had time to gasp before warmth began to seep into your skin. His body heat flared, an obvious sign that he was using his Evol, and within seconds, the chill was melting away.

      Then, in one smooth motion, he raised his hand.

      A flame flickered to life in his palm, glowing a warm, golden-orange. It burned underwater, as if the ocean itself bent to his will. Now that you could see, it wasn’t so bad. It looked kind of beautiful. The fire danced and crackled in defiance of the deep, illuminating his sharp features and casting flickering shadows against his violet hair.

      He looked otherworldly.

      Dangerous. Beautiful. Entirely not human.

      And yet, somehow, despite everything, despite the fact that you were in the darkest, deepest part of the ocean with a smug, possibly unhinged sea prince, you felt safe.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

"Um, Watcher? Are you like... actually okay? Because this one seems fine too. And fine. I will make passes at guys who wear glasses! Look at his little freckles! And he's a Ranger. While he's no high king of Gondor, he'll definitely do. Forest, secrets are no fun - you just be careful around that NOSY traited Harper, otherwise they'll soon be for everyone..."

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Forest Green for Simply Lilac BC by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants

Name: Forest Green

Age Group: Young Adult

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Heterosexual.

Hometown: Granite Falls

Occupation: Park Ranger Intern

Skills: He is a work in progress in this department

In Depth: Forest was born and raised in Granite Falls. His parents are 3rd and 5th generation Park Rangers. Forest is set to graduate from Ranger academy and become a new generation of Rangers, making his family proud. Except Forest, he never wanted to be a Ranger, he didnt know what he wanted to be for the longest time. Last year he was helping his parents clean out their attic, while up there he discovered a journal written by his great grandmother. He had heard stories of her, mostly that she walked out on her family, leaving her children to be raised solely by her husband. Reading through the journal he found that was the farthest thing from the truth. Seems his family had some secrets they happily have kept hidden for the last 75 years.

Those secrets are what have him continuing with Ranger academy, Those secrets that have him no longer trusting his own family, those secrets that have twisted and curled up in his brain that he doesnt know how good of a person he is. Those same secrets are also leading him to the countryside because the weight of what is coming has him in a choke hold and an adventure, mischief, maybe even some woohoo and good laughs will be what he needs to clear his head and make some hard decisions ...

Does he turn his parents into the police or....

👀👀

Watcher

Are you comfortable with your pixel person:

Flirting with other contestants? Y

WooHooing other contestants? Y

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs?  Y

Flirting with the host?  Y

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? Y

(Humans Only) Becoming an occult?  N

he may or may not be wee chaotic, a touch evil maybe even a little narcissistic but he is all yours now😏

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[mephisto-reporting]

Silk, Satin and Sensual - Caleb Edition

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Caleb. You can find all the other men's version here (along with Caleb's because I added that to it) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. . If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

Caleb prefers lingerie that’s just for him—sexy yet teasing, revealing enough to drive him mad but covering just enough to make him desperate.

Caleb gravitates toward sleek, understated sensuality. He favors deep, alluring colors like navy, black, and dark burgundy, shades that hint at elegance but still feel undeniably intimate. However, he has a soft spot for delicate lilacs and soft purples, especially when they complement your skin.

Minimal but devastatingly effective designs have him on edge. Thin straps barely holding everything together, high-cut panties that accentuate your legs, delicate bralettes that are more about aesthetics than practicality. He loves when the details like lace appliques or ribbon ties demand his attention. Anything he can tug, unravel, or ruin.

Let’s be real. Caleb is not a man who delicately undresses you. He’s been patient his entire life, watching, waiting, restraining himself. The moment you’re finally his? He’s not taking his time. “You knew what would happen when you put this on, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough—before the sound of tearing lace fills the room.

If you ever wonder why pieces of your lingerie mysteriously disappear, don’t. Caleb takes them when you’re not looking, slipping them into his uniform pockets or luggage when he’s preparing for deployment. He’s possessive, obsessive, and when he’s away on fleet missions, he wants something of yours to keep with him. A delicate lace garter? A silk chemise you once wore to bed? He’ll tuck them away like trophies, running his fingers over them late at night, mind filled with thoughts of you.

He’s a man who gives gifts with purpose. He knows exactly what you want, and he knows what he wants. If he’s getting you that plushie you mentioned offhandedly, or the book you’ve been dying to read, you will find a carefully wrapped lingerie set alongside it. Every gift is a two-for-one deal—his way of spoiling you while satisfying his own desires. Tucked inside, there’s always a note with cheeky messages: "Making dinner tonight. But if you wear this, you'll be the dessert."

Caleb is the picture of patience in public. He knows what you’re wearing underneath your dress—he saw you put it on, watched every slow movement in the mirror. But he doesn’t let it show. Not a single twitch of his lips, not a single shift in his stance. He leans down, lips brushing your ear, his voice impossibly calm: “You’re going to regret this later.”

There is one thing that drives him past the point of no return— his clothes on you. Seeing you in his oversized shirt is one thing, but if he catches you lounging in his boxers? He’s done. His fingers dig into the waistband, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “You must really like testing me, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his hands already tugging the waistband lower. Any plans you had for the day? Gone.

His Reaction:

When you step into the room, wearing something meant just for him, his expression darkens immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something feral in his purple eyes—desire, possessiveness, raw hunger. He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands there, his breath held. “You expect me to behave after this?” His patience is frayed, and it's clear he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Try to tease him, make him work for it and he’ll let you, for a moment. He enjoys the chase, the way you think you’re in control. But the moment he decides he’s had enough? You’re done for. One second, he’s watching you with quiet intensity, and the next, you’re beneath him, your wrists pinned, your breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence.

When he touches you, it’s as if he can’t get enough—his fingers move with purpose, reverence, but there’s an undeniable urgency. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, his lips crash against yours, taking what’s his. There’s no gentle teasing here—this is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s clear there’s no going back now. You’ve pushed him past the point of no return. The soft, teasing lace may have been your choice—but now everything that happens from there is his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[daisyofwaterdeep]

i have a NSFW Gale/Reader thought

hear me out on this one:

You have trouble falling asleep and tend to pick up potions of sleep when you can. A few sips around bedtime knocks you out and helps you be well rested in the morning. You recently finished off a bottle so when you and the gang are looting some crates, you pocket a fresh potion of the creamy lilac concoction.

Fast forward to that night. You stayed up a bit later than you intended, looking over some new scrolls and books you'd picked up that day, and decide you need a little sleep aid. You take a swig of your new potion and settle down in your tent for bed. But sleep doesn't take you. Instead, your breasts start aching. For a few moments you think that maybe your period is coming earlier than thought, but the ache keeps growing deeper, and when you go to feel your tits, you notice that they feel uncomfortably tight...full. And as you squeeze them, you feel dampness against your palms.

Confused, scared, and fighting the first inklings of panic, you grab the potion and stumble out of your tent. Luckily, you're not the only night owl and can see the warm glow of a candle from Gale's tent.

You announce your presence and he welcomes you inside, closing a book of his own and sitting up as you duck into his tent and close the flap for privacy. His pleasant smile immedately falls as he sees your worried face.

You quickly explain about the potion, how it might have been contaminated or perhaps spoiled. Gale takes the bottle and swirls the contents before uncorking it and giving it a sniff. He frowns.

"It uses some similar ingredients to a potion of sleep, so it's viscosity and smell are quite similar...but I believe I know what this is." He looks at you evenly before asking, "Did you take it?"

You nod, and Gale sighs from his nose.

"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing?"

It's a bit embarassing to admit, but you tell him, and he sighs again. You can see that he's not happy with the development and you quickly apologize for the hassle. His face changes then and he waves his hands in front of himself.

"No, no, it's not you, dear. It was an easy mistake to make. It's just that...How do I put this."

He takes in a deep breath and motions for you to sit next to him. You do, and he continues speaking, his voice slow and careful.

"That potion is used for mothers who are having troubles... shall we say, producing. It stimulates the breast tissue and...well, I'm sure you've realized."

Oh gods. You look down at your night shirt, seeing the small wet spots around your nipples. You look back at Gale (just as he looks away--it seems he was staring at your chest as well) and you ask what you should do.

Gale clears his throat. "Massaging the area will help, but to extract everything...you wouldn't happen to know a hungry baby, would you?"

You know he's trying to crack a silly joke, but it only makes tears spring to your eyes. Gale flounders, his hands fluttering around like scared birds before one lands on your thigh.

"Don't despair, dear. I'll...I know it may be a tad unorthodox, but if you'll let me..."

You tell him you don't care what he does, as long as it fixes your problem. You see Gale's jaw flex. He seems to be calculating something in his head before he nods curtly.

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Here, lay down for me."

He quickly grabs some pillows and arranges them comfortably on the ground and you lean back, the pillows propping you up in a half-lounging position.

He scoots close to you, his hands going to the buttons of your shirt before he looks up at you with those big brown eyes, silently asking your permission. You can feel your cheeks flush as you nod. He begins unfastening the buttons from the bottom, and with shaking hands, you start from the top, meeting him in the middle. Your shirt falls open, and your breasts are on full display in the candlelight, visibly tight and full, your nipples hard and wet with smeared milk.

"Do they hurt?" He asks, voice a hush in the night air.

You nod, fighting the urge to close your shirt as Gale stares.

"I won't massage them just yet, then. We need to extract some of the, erm, fluid first." He wettens his bottom lip and scoots a bit closer to you. "Do you understand what I need to do?"

It seems that he's just as nervous about this as you are-- you know what he's getting at, but neither of you seem brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, you nod your head and tell him to do whatever he needs to.

He nods and starts lowering his head hesitantly. "I know it's going to feel odd, but it's necessary."

You return the nod and fight back a shiver as you feel the warmth of his breath against your nipple. You look away just as his lips meet the swollen bud and bite your lip to stop any involuntary noises from leaving you. The feeling of his hot lips closing around your nipple and then the velvet wetness of his tongue cupping around it has heat flooding your stomach and cheeks.

He starts with a light suction, your nipple gently pulled into his mouth. You can feel the milk leaving you as he begins suckling, hot spurts that provide an almost instant relief in your aching breast.

You let out a soft sigh and Gale releases your nipple and looks up at you, his cheeks rosy and eyes darker than usual.

"You alright?"

You apologize and ensure him it's fine, telling him that it feels surprisingly good before realizing what you said and stumbling over your words. You flounder and clarify that the relief of the pressure feels good, and he nods his head quickly.

"I knew exactly what you meant." He adjusts himself on the ground, "I'm relieved to hear that it's working...we'll keep going then."

But before he dips back down, you stop him. You realize that he hasn't spat out what he's sucked from you and ask if you all should grab a bowl or something so that he doesn't have to swallow.

"I don't mind," He says, "It's less cumbersome this way." He stutters for a moment before adding, "U-unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course. I'd be happy to--"

You cut him off and tell him it's fine like this. And then, shyly, you ask him what it tastes like.

"It's...sweet. But not overly so." He gestures to your breast, where a pearly drop dangles from the tip of your nipple. "Try it for yourself."

So you do. You swipe the drop onto your finger and suck it into your mouth, surprised at the sweetness, even if that's how Gale had described it. When you look back at Gale, you see a curious heat in his eyes that he quickly masks before bringing his head down once more.

This time, you watch as he latches onto your nipple. The peek of his tongue as he takes it into his mouth makes you clench involuntarily. And then comes that relief again, that lessening of pressure that has you sighing and leaning your head back.

It's almost hypnotic. The feeling of his lips suckling at you, the press of his tongue against your sore nipple, the pain that slowly ebbs away and is quickly being replaced by guilty arousal. You close your eyes and sigh again, hand coming to the back of his head without thinking.

Your eyes fly open and you quickly apologize again. Gale pulls off of your nipple but doesn't lean up, his words breathed hotly against your sensitive breast.

"No need to apologize...please, get comfortable."

You tell him that he should get comfortable too-- you don't know how long this is going to take, and seeing him leaning forward on his knees is making your own want to ache in sympathy. He laughs softly, sheepishly.

"I do admit, it's not entirely comfortable. In that case..."

He moves slowly, carefully between your legs, looking up at you for permission that you grant with an encouraging nod.

Gale lays himself gingerly on top of you, his face level with your breasts. It's how lovers would cuddle, and it brings your heart to your throat.

"There, that's much better," Gale's voice has a slight tremble as he hovers over your untouched breast, "Is it comfortable for you as well?"

You tell him it is.

"Alright..." He takes his hand and gently cups the weight of your breast, "Let's work on this one a bit, shall we?"

He begins sucking at your other nipple, just as tender as the first one. But this time, with him laying against you and your hand returning to his hair, you find yourself letting out a moan despite yourself.

And this time, he doesn't pull away to ask if you're okay--The sound was purely from pleasure, and he seems to know it. Instead, he responds with a slightly stronger suck, his eyes closed and his long lashes on his cheeks. You try not to squirm, the heat between your legs growing to a point that you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. You wonder if he can feel the thump of it against his stomach.

You don't know how long it goes on. The gentle pull of his mouth on you, the feeling of his warm breaths against your skin, his soft hair beneath your fingers...it's all so decadently pleasurable and you lose yourself in the feeling.

He swaps between your breasts, his tongue laving at your nipple before taking it into his mouth. The feeling of it makes you jolt and shudder and moan. His hand continues cupping your other breast, gently kneading it in time with each suckle. You feel a warm trickle of milk from your free nipple and watch as it rolls down the swell of your tit before meeting his hand. He unlatches himself and goes to that breast instead, licking the cooling trail up your skin before taking your nipple once again.

His tongue is becoming greedier with each of your noises, licking your areola, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and his nose pressing into the plushness of your breast. You hold his head firmer against you, legs closing around his body as you fight to not grind against him.

He's fully groping you now, both hands gently squeezing your breasts as his hungry mouth takes turns lavishing both nipples with his attention. His eyes are still closed and his brow is furrowed as he works, panting for air between each switch but never allowing himself to fully catch his breath.

You can feel the flow of your milk drying up. The ache in your breasts has mercifully subsided, leaving them feeling tender and sensitive. But Gale doesn't seem ready to stop-- he sucks harder at them, coaxing out each drop against his tongue.

So you don't stop him. You lean back against the pillows and run your hand over his back, through his hair, letting him nurse from you to his content. And as you watch him, you realize with a cold jolt that he's rutting himself against the ground. It's subtle, almost completely missable, but you can see the way his ass flexes as his toes dig into the ground for purchase.

The revelation finally breaks your control. You moan his name and raise your hips against him, spreading your legs as his teeth dig into your skin.

It's as if he had been waiting for this moment. He's sliding up your body immediately, his hot, panted breaths against your face sweet with your milk.

"Gods, I'm--"

Whatever he's going to say is lost as he takes your mouth, that skilled tongue that has been teasing your nipples all this time now pushing past your lips, that sweetness intensified as he kisses you desperately. His body slots perfectly against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pussy and grinding into it, starved for friction. Even through both sets of your clothes you can feel his member pulsing, and as he dry fucks you he groans into your mouth, his hands hungrily feeling over your body, your face, your breasts.

You cry out as the orgasm that has been building all this time finally breaks within you, and you cling to him as you rut madly against him. Your own passionate ministrations make Gale still, and it isn't until you hear his own throaty groan that you understand why.

Your arched back deflates back into the pillows, and Gale's body follows, as if not wanting to be apart from you. You can feel the twitching of his cock still buried between your legs, uneven jumps and shudders that have him gasping and pulling out of the kiss.

"Gods, I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pants, eyes fluttering open and worry knitting his brow. "That was...inappropriate, to say the least."

You hold the side of his face and reassure him that it's alright. And, you add with a smile, his unorthodox methods have managed to do what you sought to accomplish in the first place.

"I must say, I'm rather tired myself." Gale shares your smile, "Why don't you spend the night, in that case? Besides, it's best for me to be nearby, in case you need more...extracting."

You happily oblige.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 34]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k 🌶️🌶️

ao3 link

It is not often that you get a night to yourself. 

Usually, once you get Minnie down, you dive into your laptop to clock into work, but tonight there is server maintenance, and you are free to do as you please. You wish you had checked your e-mail before Matt had given himself over to the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, but alas, you did not think that far ahead. 

You don’t mind too much, however, as you use the opportunity to stretch out on the couch, relax, and binge trash entertainment. You allow yourself to be half tucked under a throw blanket that Matt’s cologne clings to and try to turn off your brain. You do not want to think or follow a plot and quickly wind up watching catty women start drama over things like seating charts and the differences between the color lilac and the color lavender. It is fun without being too serious and easily keeps your attention.

You decide you need a glass of wine after two episodes of your show. Even with the distraction, your eyes won’t stop darting to the corner of the screen to check the time and with each siren in the distance, you tense up. You know Matt’s plan is to be out late, combing the Kitchen in search of clues to lead him to people who butchered Enhanced children, but you can’t help but worry. 

Daredevil is more than capable of taking care of himself - you have heard and read plenty of stories about his fighting prowess - but whoever is out there seemingly has no morals and that can lead to situations where enhanced senses and fists don’t cut it. You trust Matt to know his limits - only if that trust comes from knowing he would never do anything that would make his daughter cry.  

Mouse’s happiness outweighs all of Matt’s faults - at least according to Foggy. 

But you will still stay awake until he is safely in bed with you, and you can fall asleep to his steady heartbeat. It is the least you can do for him and under the multicolored glow of the billboard across the street, you lounge, caught up in a world that is so far from your own, trying to enjoy your brief time alone. 

You don’t hear it when a pair of feet land firmly on the roof above you and you don’t hear it when the access door creaks open, but when a streak of moonlight shines across worn hardwood floors, you do notice. 

You pause your show as you lurch up into sitting, heart racing. You know no one other than Matt would be coming down the stairs, but you weren’t expecting him for hours, and your panic is pointing out you are woefully unprepared for any type of fight. There’s not even a baseball bat laying around so you can pretend you can defend yourself. 

Luckily for you, you would recognize the silhouette that comes through the door anywhere - Matt in his ‘Man in Black’ outfit - and your heart turns from panic to worry. You scramble up, shoving the blanket you had been bundled under to the side, and hurry to meet him at the foot of the stairwell. 

As he enters into the area of the apartment with enough light for you to actually see in, your heart catches in your throat while simultaneously sending the pulse in your nethers into overdrive. 

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen clearly had a very different night from you. Dried and drying blood cakes his face - coming down from his nose and mouth with smudges on his jaw line. His Muay Thai ropes are grimy and disgusting, and you can just barely see how they are tinted red. His shirt is ripped in various places, and it clings to his torso like it has been drenched in sweat. It has ridden up quite a bit from all his movement, so a band of skin shows, teasing the firm muscles that lie beneath, and his pants hang low, giving a hint of that V you so admire.

Despite the state of him, he oozes confidence and danger. He’s standing straight, head held high, and shoulders pushed back to emphasize how broad he is. Every muscle is pulled taut - ready to jump into action at the slightest of provocation. His chest is rising and falling with each breath, and it makes you wonder if he ran back to the apartment or if he is having trouble breathing through his nose. Either way, it is animalistic, and you are reminded of documentaries showing a predator before it pounces on its prey.  

In the dim light, your eyes zero in on Matt’s mouth and you watch with an intensity you know he can feel as he pulls his lips back into a slight sneer and runs his tongue over his teeth. 

You decide then and there that you are going to do something Matt has been denying you the chance of for weeks. 

You are going to suck his dick. 

You have found Matt loves to tease you sexually. Little touches here and there and sly comments with double meanings are his game of choice. He likes to get you nice and worked up and to deliver on his promises with his mouth to the point you are pretty sure enjoys oral more than the act of penetration. While you very much are thrilled being on the receiving end, it doesn’t mean you don’t also want to indulge in giving. Having his cock on your tongue has been a fantasy for quite a while and it is high time you turned it into a reality. 

After making sure he isn’t about to bleed out on the floor. 

“You’re home early,” you breathe out as a greeting, gaze still firmly locked on his cut lips. You want to kiss and bite them, but not in their current state. As much as you want to jump him, you do not know whose, or what’s, blood is covering his face, and you do not want it getting in your mouth.

The man in front of you tips his chin up just slightly, head tilting in a way you know means he is examining you. By the way his sneer turns into a smirk, you know exactly what inputs he is receiving. You don't need super smell to know your panties are already soaked through.

“Didn’t expect the Irish to be setting up shop in the tunnels,” he replies, voice low and rumbly and going right to your core. You let the shiver run through you and try to not react as your nipples pebble under your shirt.

“They certainly don’t belong there.”

You force yourself to turn away from him then. You don’t want to fall into the trap of becoming flustered while Matt teases you - if he gets his hands or mouth on you, he will be insistent on pleasuring you and you won’t get what you truly desire. 

He follows you like a shadow into the kitchen, barely letting you stay a literal step in front of him. You can feel the heat from his body against your back and the smell of his sweat and whatever he rolled in is wrapped around you like an all-consuming cloud. He practically boxes you in as you grab some paper towels and when you go to wet them, he looms over you. 

When you do turn to face him, your breast just barely brush against his torso. You have a feeling he wants to crowd you into a corner and get you onto the counter so he can eat you out, but you won’t allow it. Your body is thrumming with need and want and that is overruling in any anxiety and doubt you may have. 

You know he likes to tease. You know he likes to banter and push back and that helps to embolden you as you reach up and begin to wipe his face. You want to play his game right along with him.

“They aren’t the ones hurting the kids, are they?” You start, trying so hard to be nonchalant. You know you are both very aware how your bodies are responding to each other, but that is part of the teasing.

He allows you to clean away the blood, but he doesn’t lean into your touch - he remains tall and cocky, like he’s still on the streets. “No, they’ve got a warehouse with an access hatch. They were trying to store things. Probably weapons.”

You hum, taking in the information as you dap up gore that may or may not be his. He does not appear to be particularly injured, but you know he can hide that pretty easily - and stories and your own experiences tell you he will pretend he is perfectly okay, even when he isn’t. But, still, you probe because you want to be thorough in your care before you get your mouth on him. 

“Do you need any stitches?”

He huffs in response, and you take that as a ‘no’, which makes things much easier. You aren’t sure how much your desire would fade if you had to focus on needles and thread. 

As you begin to finish running the paper towel over his face, Matt moves impossibly closer to you - he presses forward, his knee starting to wedge between your legs, and it takes everything within you to not adjust so he can slide fully between them. He ducks his head to be closer to your face and tells you in that low, growly voice of his, “I might need a chest wrap, though. Why don’t you check to see if you agree?”

You understand the challenge he is giving you and you accept it. You toss the dirty paper towel into the sink, then drop your hands to hover in front of the hem of his shirt. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, in your ears, in your cunt, as you hook your thumbs under the fabric and push it up. You go at a snail’s pace, letting your touch ghost over defined abs and feeling them flex under you. You only look down to examine the damage once his torso is almost fully exposed.

He will most definitely need a chest wrap. Bruises are already blooming around his ribs, and you can see they go around to his back. 

You make a soft, sympathetic noise in the back of your throat, “I think you might be right.” 

Again, Matt moves. His hands skirt over your hips, teasing at the fabric there and you are fully aware you are probably right where he wants you. This is confirmed when he bumps his nose, which is still hidden under his mask, against your cheek and drags it up to your ear.

“Do you know what else I think?” he breathes, voice pitched low enough to make your entire being quake in want. 

You know he is about to say something absolutely filthy, something that will make your knees give out - something that will have him winning this little game. 

And you can’t allow that. 

So, you tilt your head to the side and up, brushing your nose against his, and say in your own low voice, hoping you sound alluring, “I think you should go sit on the couch.”

Fabric crinkles as Matt’s brows raise in surprise and a tinge of Pride shoots through you at that. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting push back from you and his mouth curls up into amusement.

“Mmmm, and why should I do that?”

You resist the urge to wet your lips, not wanting to seem weak. Instead, you slowly start to guide his shirt back down, so he is covered again.

“Because I want you there.” 

“You want me there?” He confirms as he pulls his head back enough you can see his full face. His hands, however, are defiant - they finally settle on your hips, and with the slightest of tugs, you are flush against him and can feel his hardness pressed against you. Your cunt clenches around nothing in desire and you mentally chastise it as Matt grins like the Cheshire cat. “I think you want me here.”

Your mind races for a solution. As long as your body is weeping for his touch, Matt is not going to back down about getting what he wants but you need him to let you be in control. With his senses and with his suaveness, he has the upper hand. You need to undermine that.  

You need to use his advantages against him. 

Plus, the one unique advantage that he has given to you. 

You decide the only way to control the Devil is to tell him exactly why he is going to listen to you. 

You bite your lip, trying to be a bit coy, then whisper out as confidently as you can, “I want you on the couch so that I can get on my knees and get my mouth on your cock. So, you are going to do that because I know you can smell and taste how wet the idea of sucking you off makes me, and you said that you are mine. You are mine and this is what I want, so that is what you will do. Understood?”

Matt doesn’t respond at first and you try to not panic about pushing the boundaries too far.

But then his lips part just slightly, and his nose flares and you can practically see all of his bravado crumbling. He tightens his grip on your shirt for just a moment before he lets you go and slowly, slowly steps back. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally replies, his voice not as growly, not as deep. 

“Good boy.” 

You watch him back away from you until he pivots to be able to head towards the couch, relief flooding through you. You wait until he has actually sat down to grab the first aid kit from its hidden cupboard and make your way to the living room. 

Matt has manspread so that you can comfortably kneel between his tree-trunk thighs, and as much as you want to take your place there, you do need to actually wrap his chest. His Muay Thai wraps are going to keep him from taking his shirt off, but you don’t mind that much. The idea of him staying in the Man in Black outfit is rather thrilling.

As you go to sit beside him and open the first aid kit, you direct him, “lift your shirt up.” 

You expect a comment or resistance, based on his teasing earlier, but he is surprisingly quick to obey you. He sits up straight and tugs his shirt up as high as it will go, giving you plenty of room to work with.

Wrapping is one of the things you have practiced doing on some of Minnie’s toys, so you feel well versed in the task. The gauze is much better quality than what you have, but the motions are the same and Matt is stoic as you bind his ribs. With each rise and fall of his chest, your cunt drips with anticipation, and you wonder if his dick is twitching with the same. You consider taking your time with wrapping, but you don’t want to drag things out for yourself. 

You want your reward for taming the Devil.

You clean up your mess once finished and set the kit on the coffee table, so it is out of the way. Matt’s attention on you is nearly physical in how aware of it you are. It makes your insides bubble with delight.

You let yourself make a show of standing up and stepping to stand between his legs. Matt’s hands are planted on the couch, and you watch the way his fingers flex and curl as you lower yourself to your knees. 

“This is what you want?” he confirms as you settle yourself. His voice is losing that harsh edge, and he sounds so much more like the Matt you are used to. 

“Very much,” you purr. “It’s all I’ve thought about for days.”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat in response, and you watch it as you place your hands on the inners of his thighs and slowly push them up towards his crotch. You then deviate, going around where you know he wants you to touch him and going instead for the buckle of his belt. As you do, you lean up and forward to kiss at the skin just under the gauze. 

You give light, soft little pecks as you make your way down his stomach and Matt arches up into it, fully giving himself to you and stopping with his tough guy act. Pleased with this reaction, you nuzzle him before sinking your teeth into his flesh and starting to suck, determined to make a mark. 

Under you, Matt hisses in pleasure. His hips buck up with want and all his former words about wanting to be scratched and bit flood your mind. He likes the bruises. He likes the pain. 

So, who are you to deny him when he is being so good for you and you very much like the idea of him having reminders of why it’s a good idea to listen to you. 

You treat his washboard abs like a canvas - you bite and suck and scratch, leaving all sorts of different traces of you on him. Matt paws at the cushions, unwilling to put his hands on you for some reason, as his breathing turns harsher and needier. He doesn’t moan, but your name starts to slip out like a prayer and that is the motivation you need to keep going.

You are not satisfied until you’ve touched all the bare skin on the front of his body. 

Only then do you undo his belt and pop the button keeping you from your prize. 

Hard doesn’t begin to describe Matt’s cock - it's swollen and red and leaking like a faucet. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he had already cum all over himself and wouldn’t that have been the ego boost of the century?

His musk is nearly intoxicating as you dip down to rub your nose and lips against his head, smearing precum all over yourself. 

“Please,” Matt begs from above you, voice ragged and needy. It sends an electric thrill through you and you can’t help but want to tease him.

“Please, what?” You ask, throwing it back at him like he always does with you when you are a mess. “Use your words, baby.” 

“Put your mouth on me. Please suck my cock,” he mumbles, rolling his head back and pushing his hips up like you have no clue where to find what he is asking for. “Please. Take what you want. I’m yours. Please.” 

“Don’t worry, my good boy, I’ll take care of you,” you promise before wrapping your mouth around him. 

The burst of saltiness has you moaning and very suddenly your goal shifts from taking care of Matt to taking care of yourself. You’ve thought so long and so much about this experience, and you want to enjoy it exactly how you have imagined it. 

You haven’t given a blowjob in a very long time, so you take your time adjusting and exploring. Your tongue swirls around as you bob up and down, taking more and more in each time until it feels like too much. Then you back off and start again, continuing the process over and over until you no longer gag around him. 

He is heavy on your tongue, filling your mouth and making your jaw work to take him. It's perfect and how you pictured it in your mind. You know, in another time when you weren't so determined with your task, you could get lost in him fucking your throat.

The thought makes you drool, and you pay no mind to the spit gathering in your mouth and dripping down to soak Matt’s pants. 

You know he doesn’t mind being messy. 

When you feel you have thoroughly mapped Matt’s cock by swallowing it do you switch tactics. He whimpers and writhes as you pull off of him only to start panting when you attach your lips to the underside of it. Years of reading dirty books and sex tips has you knowing the frenulum is sensitive and you imagine Matt’s is doubly so. You are proven correct when you start moving your tongue and the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard comes from deep in his chest. 

You relish in how you are undoing Matt. You drag your lips and tongue up and down his length, sucking and flicking your tongue to get different responses. You want to know which one gets him moaning the most, so you are sure to take your time experimenting and learning. One hand wraps around his base to pump slowly, so no part of his cock is neglected, while the other reaches up to resume clawing at his skin. 

Praise and need and begging come pouring down from above you and you want more. You want Matt to feel as good as you do when he lays you out under him. You swallow him again, taking as much as you possibly can in, and when you reach your limit, you stay there. Your hand above you finds the gauze you wrapped around his chest and you move it to where you know the worst of the bruising is hidden. 

Then you press down. 

His cock twitches hard in your throat, a single salty spurt coating your insides, and you know he is right on the edge with the way he moans your name. 

You want more. 

You need more. 

Your cunt is pulsing and gushing at how much you want to make the Devil into a pretty mess, and you know just how to do it. 

You pull back to give yourself room to maneuver, but you keep your mouth on him, worshiping the tip of his cock as the hand wrapped around his base drops to go between your thighs. It is easy to push your sleeping shorts and panties to the side, and you begin to coat your fingers in your own slick. You are so very wet, and your own touch leaves you quivering, but you know your time for physical pleasure will be soon enough. 

You make sure your fingers are absolutely dripping before you remove them from between your legs and enact your plan.

With your mouth still on him, you reach up, your fingers pointed forward and Matt does not need to be told what you are wanting of him. He practically dives for them, slurping them up greedily - like he is parched, and they are his salivation. You push your fingers more into him, until the heel of your hand is flush with his chin, making him start to gag and drool around them. 

As you do that, you swallow him down again and dig your other palm into his bruised ribs. 

The result is instant, and you get no warning as Matt’s hips buck and stutter and he fills your throat with his seed. 

You drink it as greedily as he drinks you down when he is between your legs. You very much understand the pleasure he gets from it - you’ve barely just finished, and you already want to lay him out again. Pulling away from him feels like a Herculean Trial - you yearn to stay there with his cock in your mouth until it gets hard again, but you know you should check on him to make sure he enjoyed himself. 

You give one last tease as you drag your fingers from his mouth, though, letting them tug as his lips and smear spit and slick down his chin, timing it so his cock falls from your mouth at the same time. 

You can only see the bottom half of his face, but he looks pretty blissed out. Matt’s lips are puffy and red, and he has this dopey, pleased smile on his face - something very contrasting from his all-black outfit. You are gentle as you tuck him back into his pants and even more so as you push yourself up so you can climb into his lap, straddling him. 

His hands are on your hips immediately, looping around to tug you flush against his chest. You brace yourself on his shoulders and smile down at the masked man. 

“Did you like that?” you ask, pitching your voice to be sweet and flirty. 

His response is to lean in and begin to kiss your neck, nice and slow and leisurely. You tilt your head to give him better access and he makes his way up to your ear, purring out a ‘yes, ma’am’ as he does. 

His breath against your skin has your core thrumming and reminding you that you need your own release, and you do not plan to deny yourself of that. 

So, as Matt begins to nuzzle and nip at your neck, you pull his mask from his head, tossing it to the side before you tangle your fingers into his hair. You let yourself be rough as you yank his head back so his sightless eyes can stare up into yours, all while clawing your other hand into his shoulder. You then contrast that by giving him the sweetest peck on the lips.

“Good. Because you still need a shower, and I need your cock in my pussy for at least an hour. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

---

This one goes out to @pastafossa . Matt always needs a good Domming session.

--

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13 @hashcakes

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer  @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @buckyssugarchick

@the-devils-angel @savvyreyes4587 @diasnohibng @blobygree18 @givemylovetoall 

@xoxabs88xox @bluerobin35 

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea 

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[rheya28]

The Crown [ Lounge + Bar] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Welcome to The Crown, a haven of refined indulgence that seamlessly shifts from an upscale morning restaurant and lounge to a sophisticated evening gentlemen's club. In the daylight hours, experience culinary delights in an ambiance of polished dark wood accents, moody lights, and soft jazz.

As the sun sets, The Crown transforms into an intimate and stylish club, where discreet luxury meets thrilling entertainment. With an emphasis on sophistication, The Crown offers an unforgettable fusion of exquisite dining and sensual experiences in an atmosphere of opulence.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

● In order for the adult club function to work, you must download the wicked whims mod [Download at your own risk]. ● This build does not have to be a club, it can be set as a restaurant, a lounge, or a bar. ● I am not 100% familiar with wicked whims so I will not be answering questions regarding the mod. However, I played around with it and did some playtesting as a club owner and everything is functioning correctly on my end. I advice that you look up tutorials if you're not sure to how this lot type works.

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

Sim's Featured in the video are by the talented @rhdweauni0 <3

➽ LOT DETAILS

Lot Name: The Crown Lot type: Gentlemen's Club/Str*p Club [Can be set as a lounge, restaurant or bar] Lot size: 30x30 Location: Windenburg or San MyShuno

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi ● Wicked Whims by Turbodriver [optional: This is only required if you want to set this lot as a club] ● Functional Pool Table by Utopya

➽ CC LIST:

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! CharlyPancakes ● Miscellanea [books] ● Soak [ Floor pattern, wall lamp] Amelie ● Vintage Art print #3 Severinka ●Aura Bedroom - Ceiling lamp V01, V03 ● Ceiling lamp Alpha ●Industrial Light II Ceiling B, Ceiling D Sooky ● Dark Academia Victorian Oil Paintings 01 ● Horizontal Oil Painting - landscape ● Horizontal Oil Painting - Still Life ● Vertical Oil Painting - Landscape ● Vertical Oil Painting - Portrait ● Vertical Oil Painting - Still Life The Clutter Cat ● Dandy Diary pt 1, 2 ● Hello Horses FelixAndre ● Chateau [all ] ● Berlin pt 1 ● Colonial pt 2, 3 ● Florence pt 2 ● Gatsby ● Georgian ● Grove [ all ] ● London Interior ● Paris pt 2, 3 ● Soho pt 3 House of Harlix ● Harluxe ● Livin Rum ● Orjanic Harrie ● Brownstone [all] ● Baysic ● Brutalist ● Coastal pt 2, 3, 8 ● Klean pt 3 ● Kwatei ● Octave pt 2 ● Shop the look pt 1, 2 ● Spoons pt 3 ● Jardane Kiwisim4 ● Block house dining [dining chairs] Lilac Creative ● The classic Collection Little Dica ● The even Grander Piano Myshunosun ● Garden Stories [patio lights] ● Lottie [candle] ● Simmify pt 2 [book clutter] Pierisim ● Coldbrew pt 3 ● Combles [chair] ● David Apartment pt 1, 2 ● Domain du close pt 2, 3 ● MCM pt 1, 3 ● Oak House pt 4 ● Tilable ● Winter Garden pt 1, 2 ● Wood Land Ranch pt 3 Plush Pixels ● Parisian Apartment [coffee table only] Simcredible ● Bossa Nova Ceiling lamp Simplistic ● Rusticlife area rug Sixam ● Boho Bathroom [floor tiles] Taurus Design ● Lilith Chilling Areas MycupofCC ● The Modernist [wall lamp] Tuds ● Ind Syboulette ● Ratatouille [Sign ] Utopya ● Pool Table [mod]

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[lizzy06]

Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader Fics Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

ab intra ✨✨💖💖by andypantsx3 (humor, eventual smut, brainwashing)when a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, pro hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What's even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.[COMPLETED]

no grave to hold my body down✨ by Hawnks (supermintfluff) (oneshot, hurt/comfort) Kindness is its own superpower. Love is, too.[COMPLETED]

Jealousy✨ by @alienaiver (oneshot, fluffy banter)Shinsou wants your attention after coming home, but you are preoccupied.[COMPLETED]

 The Sports Festival✨ by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff) reader with a weather quirk faces off against shinsou in the sports festival[COMPLETED] pt 2: Parties for No One ✨by @writing-freak (oneshot, fluff)you consider approaching shinsou after the sports festival. an unlikely friendship commences. [COMPLETED]

Why aren't you scared of me? by @bakugohoex (oneshot, slight angst, fluff)in which shinso joins class 1a and whilst everybody seems to be scared of him out of fear he’ll use his quirk, you try to befriend the boy and he develops feelings as soon as you talk to him.[COMPLETED]

Diary by @onyxiana-is-obsessed (oneshot, fluff)Shinsou finds your diary where you’ve written way too much about him. Good thing he feels the same way.[COMPLETED]

Speechless by @alaskamonsters (oneshot, first meetings)[COMPLETED]

18 by @songbirdsingingthings (oneshot, jealousy, fluff) .[COMPLETED]

how to start an office romance✨ by animepseud (multipurposeroom) (fluff, humor, angst, slowburn)When a serial killer shows up to terrorise the neighbourhood, who do you call? According to the neighbourhood, not Shinsou.is there a better time to pursue romance than in the midst of a serial killing investigation?[COMPLETED]

Friendly Reminders & Math Equations✨ by kingyohno (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)What one person writes on their skin also appears on the skin of their soulmate. Reader is forgetful and Shinsou is bored. Awkwardness ensues.[COMPLETED]

lilac eyes | shinsou x reader✨ by personb (strangers to lovers, fluff, angst)You just wanted to live for one night at a party with Jirou, though it seemed your night was going to be far more eventful than you anticipated. And you welcomed it, well him at least, with open arms. And to be fair he was very, very hot.[COMPLETED]

Your name on my skin✨  by  @dira333 / Fogfire (oneshot, soulmate au, )What your soulmate writes appears on your skin.[COMPLETED]

Two mind related quirk users walk into a train  ✨ ✨ by  wotefokizbrunch (oneshot, mindreader! reader, humor)When Shinso is sleep deprived his inner monologue just rambles non-stop and you, being a mindreader, find it hilarious.[COMPLETED]

Heart & Mind ✨ by orphan_account (oneshot, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort)You have trouble finding a sparring partner because of your Quirk. Few are willing to have their emotions manipulated, after all.[COMPLETED]

Love at First Sight by ScatteredScribbles (oneshot, fluff, coffee shop au, love at first sight) Even though Shinso knows better, some part of him still wants to believe it’s possible–that there’s a single person in the world made for him, and they’re lounging about in the coffee shop he works at.[COMPLETED]

Just Say It by @sunnieskies02 (oneshot, soulmate au, hanahaki disease, slight angst with happy ending) [COMPLETED]

Show Me by hunnybby(oneshot, crush, fluff, humor) Shinsou Hitoshi's classmate just won't leave him alone. If she wanted to know his quirk so bad then she should have paid attention.[COMPLETED]

We Really Need To Stop Meeting Like This by spicyNess (oneshot, tooth rooting fluff, crush)The more you bumped into him, the more you wanted to.[COMPLETED]

Late Night Visits by candlelight27 (oneshot, college au, fluff, smut, idiots in love)A not-so-innocent game of truth and dare and all your conspiring friends might give you an opportunity to sort out the feelings you have for your best friend, Hitoshi Shinsou.[COMPLETED]

 Heroes Together by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff)after growing up close friends with shinsou, you are forced to move away and leave your home behind. years later, you return, reunited with the best friend who doesn’t seem to remember you. [COMPLETED]

In All Honesty by Avistella (oneshot, fluff)People have always been wary of talking with Shinsou, but not you. When you start distancing yourself from him, Shinsou becomes worried.[COMPLETED]

Chocolate kisses and Catpuccinos by HydrangeaPartridge (coffee shop au, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut)In which you are an accident prone-waitress in a cat café where Pro Hero MindJack (aka Shinso Hitoshi) likes to spend time. How will your relationship evolve through the four seasons of one year?[COMPLETED]

[coralinnii]

Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

[kaymystic]

Day 2: Tension & Chemistry

Pairing: Paige x Azzi

wc: 1.3k

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The villa was alive with the hum of excitement as the sun peeked over the horizon, casting a soft pink glow across the landscape. The first full day in the villa promised to bring new opportunities for connection, but for Paige Bueckers, there was something about Azzi Fudd that she couldn’t shake. She hadn’t expected to be so drawn to her, not when she’d already coupled up with Jasmine. But there was a quiet intensity to Azzi that was different—something both strong and fragile at the same time.  

As the morning unfolded, the girls milled about the kitchen, making breakfast together. The sound of sizzling eggs and the sweet fragrance of tropical fruit mixed in the air. The large kitchen island was filled with chatter, but Paige had only eyes for one person: Azzi.  

Paige, ever the self-assured athlete, wore a loose-fitting tank top and athletic shorts, her blonde hair tousled from her early morning workout. She moved with the easy grace of someone who was always in motion, always aware of her body, yet unbothered by the attention she might attract. 

As Paige flipped a pancake expertly onto a plate, her arm brushed against Azzi’s. There was a charged moment—a flicker that passed between them, unnoticed by the others. Azzi, who was more demure and refined, was wearing a soft lilac robe, her dark hair damp from a shower, and she looked effortlessly beautiful. Paige couldn't help but be taken aback by the contrast between Azzi's soft, feminine energy and her own more athletic, masculine demeanor. 

Azzi stepped up to the counter, her eyes glancing toward Paige. The brief moment of eye contact had Paige’s heart skip a beat, but she brushed it off, continuing with her pancakes as though nothing had happened.  

“Making pancakes, huh?” Azzi asked, her voice light but playful. She reached for a mug and poured herself some coffee.  

“Yeah,” Paige said, tossing the last pancake onto the stack with a grin. “What about it? You a pancake expert?”  

Azzi shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “Not exactly. But I do know a good one when I taste it.”  

Paige slid a plate across the counter to Azzi, nudging it toward her. “Well, you should try these. I’m multi talented like that.”  

Azzi took a bite, her lips curling into a smile. “Not bad. You know, I’m impressed,” she said, her voice teasing yet soft. There was something about Azzi's smile that felt different from the others—the way it was both inviting and elusive. It made Paige’s chest tighten in a way she wasn’t quite ready to admit.  

“I know,” Paige replied with a wink. “I can do more than just shoot hoops.”  

But the banter didn’t stay light for long. A soft voice interrupted them. “Morning, Az,” Olivia said, stepping up beside Azzi. She wrapped her arm around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek. The kiss was quick and intimate, and the air around them seemed to shift. Paige’s eyes lingered for a moment, but she quickly turned her attention back to the stack of pancakes in front of her, trying to ignore the slight twist in her stomach.  

Azzi, too, pulled away from Olivia, offering Paige a quick glance. It was a brief moment, but Paige caught it. Azzi had looked at her. Not just a passing glance, but a fleeting, almost contemplative look, as if weighing something. It was enough to make Paige’s pulse race, her mind spinning with thoughts she didn’t want to entertain.  

—

The afternoon brought the first official challenge of the season. The girls were gathered by the pool, where the host stood with an oversized deck of cards. The challenge, titled "Too Hot to Handle," involved completing increasingly bold and flirtatious dares.  

Paige leaned back in her lounge chair, her legs stretched out on the cushion as she watched the others. She didn’t mind challenges—she thrived in them. But today, there was something about this one that felt… different. The stakes were higher, the tension more palpable. And the atmosphere had shifted, leaving a strange kind of electricity in the air.  

The first round had the Islanders making slow-motion walks toward the camera, the dramatic music blaring as they tried to be as seductive as possible. Paige was the first to go, strutting forward with her signature swagger, but she couldn’t help but glance to the side at Azzi as she did. Azzi’s eyes were focused on her, and the way she looked at her—soft, but unmistakably appreciative—sent a surge of heat to Paige’s chest.  

Then, it was Azzi’s turn. The card she drew had her looking a bit hesitant, but the host handed her the card with a smirk: “Kiss the Islander who has caught your eye the most.”  

Paige felt the world slow for a second. She stared at Azzi, feeling a tightening in her chest as she waited for the decision to unfold. Azzi looked around, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. Could it be? 

But then, Azzi turned her gaze to Olivia. She stepped forward, pulling her into a kiss that was soft, tender, and full of intimacy. Paige stood frozen, her heart pounding in her ears. It was a harmless kiss—no different from the playful dares they had seen in past seasons—but to Paige, it felt heavy. 

Azzi pulled away and smiled at Olivia, but there was a slight unease in her eyes as she turned back to face the group. Paige clenched her jaw. It was nothing, right? Just a game. A kiss for the challenge. But why did it feel like something had shifted between them?  

—

The evening brought the girls together at the pool. The air had cooled, and the lights from the villa cast a soft, romantic glow across the water. Paige, feeling restless and unable to focus on anything else, slipped away from the group and perched on the edge of the pool. The water was cool against her legs, and the sound of the night surrounded her in a comforting silence.  

She didn’t expect Azzi to walk up beside her, but she did. Azzi was barefoot, wearing a loose white dress that flowed around her like a halo, her soft waves of hair catching the light. There was a moment of unspoken understanding between them as Azzi sat down next to her, not too close, but not too far either.  

“Hey,” Azzi said quietly, her voice soft but carrying the weight of something unsaid.  

“Hey,” Paige replied, her gaze fixed ahead, avoiding eye contact for the moment. She wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. She could feel the pull between them, undeniable and magnetic, but she didn’t know if Azzi felt it too or if it was just her imagination running wild.  

The silence stretched, and then Paige, unable to hold back, said, “So… earlier, you seemed to be having a pretty good time with Olivia.” The words were out before she could stop them, and the edge in her voice betrayed her growing feelings.  

Azzi met her gaze then, and the intensity of it made Paige’s stomach flip. She didn’t look defensive. She looked thoughtful.  

“Yeah,” Azzi said slowly, her voice soft. “But I think you know I’m not really good at playing it safe. It was just a kiss. But…” She hesitated, her hand brushing against the side of Paige’s leg as she shifted closer. “There’s something different about you.”  

Paige's heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Olivia’s voice called out from across the villa—Azzi’s name, sweet and demanding.  

Azzi sighed, standing up slowly. She paused for just a moment, looking at Paige with a lingering glance. “I should go.”  

As Azzi walked away, Paige remained on the edge of the pool, the cool water lapping against her skin. Something was definitely happening here.  

But what? 

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[ladyofmonaco]

milk & honey ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: this is my first uploaded piece on my new blog so please interact, would very much be appreciated.

It is a gentle afternoon in the principality of Monaco: the skies a palette of pale lilac against the quilt of grey clouds in gentle rainfall that lingers with a hint of petrichor, a slow and familiar hustle amongst the streets of smooth stone and Belle Époque architecture where a stray cat wanders her path before disappearing once more into the alcoves of an alley.

After a slow dawn of waking amongst a mess of clean, linen sheets, feathered pillows, and tangled limbs where the heavy, velvet curtains danced serenely in some lovers' waltz, hiding the bedroom in some quiet bask, the both of you enjoyed breakfast over almond croissants, blueberries stolen from one another's plates and your usual café au lait – half a sugar, more milk than deemed necessary, just as Charles knows you love it – before you had walked around the neighbourhood by eleven o'clock to at least feel somewhat productive.

Even when the both of you only wanted to lounge endlessly after returning from Montréal the day before.

Despite finishing 4th and not quite following through in his hopes in securing an awarding podium and a taste of sweet champagne, faced with the recent difficulties of upgrades, he had come to accept and delight in his small succession nonetheless with you by his side, forever proud regardless.

Phones on mute, the rest of society blissfully forgotten and only each other to indulge in, it is pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Hm, you smell nice," By two o'clock – after a light luncheon on the balcony overlooking the beauty of the Côte d'Azur – you are dozing idly about the plush invitation of the sofa, his voice a hushed murmur near the side of your neck where lips ghost over in something close to a kiss when he speaks.

Charles is half-draped over your own figure, though his weight is comfortably balanced by an elbow against a sewn cushion, some kind of Jardin De Fleurs -inspired embroidery made and gifted by your grandmother, with ankles locked about each other and your soft-skinned palm tracing his shoulder through the white linen of his shirt.

For a moment, a quietude settles between you once more and you welcome the entwined curl of his lithe fingers around your own when his hand drifts higher from the inside of your wrist absently like some unspoken 'I love you' before his mouth meets yours.

It is slow and sweet, the kind of kisses you savour in committing to memory each and every time, and he can taste remnants of sweetened milk & honey tea on your breath that is so apparently mundane but equally unique to you alone.

When your head tilts back against the cushions – hair falling about like an angel's halo – and Charles shifts his own body further, closer, above you, his hands come to cradle either side of your lovely face, his thumbs grazing the delicate line of your cheekbones, his nose brushing lightly against the bridge of your own.

He kisses your brow, then the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, and finally your mouth again, all in that order, before breaking away for air.

"What was that for?" Voice hardly a demure whisper, you gaze at him through the veil of your lashes in some lovesick delight where your mouth threatens to curve against a hushed giggle, your own touch idly feeling along the carved line of his jaw like intricate marble where a dusting of five o'clock shadow lingers from a few days' worth. You secretly adore it, how it feels.

Charles smiles – all beautiful, revealed dimples and a glimmer in his eyes that remind of leaves in late August – and brushes a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering about the lines of your visage as if falling in love again, everyday. "For no particular reason, ma chérie, just because I want to."

Then he is leaning down to meet you again just as you welcome the embrace without question, only allowing yourself to melt further into the serenity of some lovesick truth as your arms drape about his shoulders faintly.

"Je pense..." Charles' mouth drifts down from yours slowly in a trail of kisses about your chin in his verbalised albeit quiet musings before lips slant together again and he encourages you to open for him, tasting, feeling, his tongue teasing over yours in a caress, "That I don't need a reason to kiss you."

In some silent, earnest contentment, you agree, because you could never refuse or object to the intimacy of his kisses and touches.

Mouth curving upwards against his, you let your fingertips feel the trimmed, soft hairs at his nape against tousled brunet tresses whilst breathing him in: Ombré Nomade cologne, hints of something akin to cedarwood against raspberry, incense and warm amber, against his natural pheromones. Home.

Feeling the lean muscles against his back through the soft fabric, toying only subtly with the subtle drag of teeth against his plush lower-lip whilst your eyes remain blissfully closed, you meet the faintest resonance of a sound from the back of his throat like a purr when he sucks upon your tongue with the same touch of loving.

"Vous êtes si belle," He sighs the compliments against you in sweet nothings and unabashed confessions, his own touch ghosting over the curves of your waist through the ivory, lace camisole hugging your physique, thumbs fleeting over the jut of your hip-bone before drifting higher once more.

It is when idle strokes are felt over your rib cage that you unconsciously emit a breathless, flushed sound of laughter against him before you can help yourself, instinctively shrinking against the touch whilst earning a look from him as he draws away fractionally with arched brows.

"Ticklish, are we, ma chérie?"

Your mouth parts for a retort or quick dismissal out of bashfulness – even when you know that he already knows too, given the Monégasque has the privilege to know each intimate, secretive and wholehearted truth about you – though the words die on your tongue the moment his fingertips continue their ministrations over your sides.

You cannot stop the serenade of laughter from leaving you, not when you are entirely vulnerable beneath, and a warmth settles in your chest when the corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile as he continues tickling you.

"Arrêt–" A breathless gasp of imploration, palms that reach to try and draw him away with a shove at his chest though your rosé cheeks hurt from the depth of your raw, honest smiles, "Charles." ꒰ stop ꒱

Chuckling lowly, the man offers you the respite of mercy as he comes to a halt and kisses the corner of your mouth intimately, instead allowing his hands to feel the curve of your lower-back and the notches of your vertebrae until eyes meet in the peace of the afternoon, otherwise silent save for the lull of Lana del Rey from the kitchenette radio.

"Je t'aime." ꒰ i love you ꒱

He kisses you again and it is rich in his responding, ardent devotion to you, letting the faint remnants of your lipstick smear his own mouth like the prints you leave on hand-written love letters of cursive Française just for him in your diaries, the cashmere throw forgotten about your feet on the other end of the chaise lounge whilst rain continues.

"Je t'aime aussi, pour toujours." ꒰ i love you too, forever ꒱

[lazarusrisingx]

nsfw concept

tw: intox? both of them are high, OOC caleb?, stoner!caleb,

thinking about caleb being a secret stoner tbh. while yall grew up you knew his friends smoked weed and one night in college he invites you over and casually packs a bong and takes rips off it.

hes surprised you didnt know, hes high for his morning classes and smokes once hes off work. hes called and texted and even hung out with you after a fresh hit.

his eyes are heavy looking, the bright energy behind them muted and his lilac eyes are trained on your lips. hes no longer standing as prim and proper as he usually does. letting his shoulders slouch a bit and lazily lounging on the couch beside you. his voice gets a bit raspy and a little deeper, his smile is more of a lazy grin and the look in his eyes. mmm its like an animal looking ag a delectable treat.

you however have only smoked a few times and even then its been years. he teases you and asks if you want to try some. so you do. but it makes you couch so badly caleb gets worried, pulling you so you standup and putting your arms over your head and murmuring softly to you .

“just focus on breathing okay? its normal to cough its okay pips…. ‘nother deep breath for me… good good… good girl”

his gentle praise further turns your brain into a mushy mess and soon your sitting across from him, your face is held in one of his hands his thumb gently stroking over your cheek.

“wanna try somethin’?

eventually you two are shotgunning hits because your lungs cant handle the bong and then caleb kisses you while smoke still curls from his lips. the taste of weed and his spit muddling your brain even further and soon youre grinding on his lap

even better if caleb keeps insidting yoj take hits and starts feeling you up just to hear what pretty noises youll make.

it all devolves into nasty kinky breeding sex where caleb is just absolutely destroying you hole. your so high you can only take it.

and of course calebs a gentlman even when hes stoned. after having the best sex of your life he carries you to the bathroom and draws you a bath and tells you how much hes wanted you and for how long.

and then you guys start dating the end

mmmm yes now im thinking about stoner zayne and sylus mmmm very interesting yesyes

[sketchp00ch]

What I Think The Rogues Would Smell Like

Joker- Surprisingly he keeps himself pretty clean when he’s not covered in blood or chemicals. I see him put on basic cologne though (a cheap on from Ross probably). But for some reason there is a hint of patchouli to him…

Harley- She smells like an older sister’s bedroom from the 2000’s, but in a good way! Like the inside of a Victoria’s Secret from 2006! I also definitely picture her smelling like vanilla or something sweet like strawberry shortcake!

Penguin- Sometimes when he’s out doing crimes, or just relaxing by himself, he smells like fresh fish (mackerel to be specific, as I like to headcanon that would be his favorite snack). But when he’s being a gracious host at the Iceberg Lounge- he wears one of the most expensive French colognes out there (Le Monde Sur Mesure maybe)! Man’s spared NO expense!

Riddler- Like Oswald, I imagine Edward would wear expensive cologne (Tom Ford or Versace) when he’s out for a fancy gathering/events or when he makes a typical dramatic entrance and starts monologuing. Majority of the time though, he always smells fresh out the shower, the man’s hygiene is TOP TIER. But, if I want him to smell like anything when he’s at home chilling: Irish Spring or Harry’s.

Scarecrow- Aside from the fear toxin smells that linger on his costume (fear toxin probably doesn’t smell that pleasant…), I imagine the man would smell like cinnamon or pumpkin pie (or just regular pumpkin). Or if he’s having a depressed week, he’d probably smell like a barn with a hint of rum.

Poison Ivy- I mean… Girlie is literally a plant person. Surrounded by flowers everyday. Roses especially so… She would smell like fresh roses. Simple.

Killer Croc- Stinky. Typical sewer water smell. With a hint of blood… I wonder why… But on his more cleaner days, I imagine him smelling like food? Like grilled sirloin with a lot of seasonings for some reason?

Catwoman- Just like Oswald and Edward, Selina spared NO expense with her perfumes. She smells like expense perfume, that she definitely didn’t steal (specifically Clive Christain or Dior).

Two-Face- Harvey may be unhinged, but stinky? Hell no. He’s got standards. Not even on his most manic or depressed days would he allow himself to smell anything but fresh. He would wear high quality Italian cologne (Stefano Ricci for example) like any respectable crime boss. But on other days I imagine him smelling like lavender/lilac, very calming smells, it’s for himself so he can feel relaxed when he’s alone with his thoughts.

Bane- I don’t know what the Venom smells like per se, I’m just gonna assume it probably smells funky… Bane to me, looks like he’s nothing but pure post-gym musk. However, he’s still a man of class, and he sometimes wears something strong like Florida Water cologne.

Mr. Freeze- Victor I feel like doesn’t smell like anything. For a man to be incased in ice 24/7 I doubt any BO would come off of him. Colognes don’t do anything for him so they’re a no. But if I HAD to think of a smell, I would say the inside of a freezer. That’s it.

Mad Hatter- I think Jervis would have a rather interesting smell to him, on one hand I’m thinking florals but soft florals like daisies, but on the other I imagine him to smell like chamomile tea.