#prompt drabble game

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a line of dialogue, an emotion and a setting (a number, letter, + a creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a piece of dialogue

꒰ 1 ꒱ “i can’t fucking believe this.”

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. is it true?”

꒰ 3 ꒱ “it’s not safe here anymore- we need to leave. now!”

꒰ 4 ꒱ “you know how much i care about you.”

꒰ 5 ꒱ “they’re never going to hurt you again.”

꒰ 6 ꒱ “here, let’s get you warmed up.”

꒰ 7 ꒱ “i didn’t do it. please, you have to believe me!”

꒰ 8 ꒱ “i’m taking you home, and that’s that.”

꒰ 9 ꒱ “do you trust me?”

꒰ 10 ꒱ “i can’t sleep either. mind if i join you?”

꒰ 11 ꒱ “you’re not your worst mistake.”

꒰ 12 ꒱ “try and eat, if you can. it’ll make you feel better.”

꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”

꒰ 14 ꒱ “they’re going to surround us. we need to get ready.”

꒰ 15 ꒱ “i need you to leave.”

꒰ 16 ꒱ “we can’t be seen together like this. not anymore.”

꒰ 17 ꒱ “it’s dangerous. i need you to know that before you agree.”

꒰ 18 ꒱ “it’s just one night- surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.”

꒰ 19 ꒱ “it’s getting dark, we should think about heading back.”

꒰ 20 ꒱ “what have i told you about coming here?!”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ an emotion

꒰ A ꒱ disdain

꒰ B ꒱ grief

꒰ C ꒱ ecstasy

꒰ D ꒱ disbelief

꒰ E ꒱ anxiety

꒰ F ꒱ contentment

꒰ G ꒱ drunkenness

꒰ H ꒱ enjoyment

꒰ I ꒱ confusion

꒰ J ꒱ fear

꒰ K ꒱ hunger

꒰ L ꒱ relief

꒰ M ꒱ distrust

꒰ N ꒱ fondness

꒰ O ꒱ delight

꒰ P ꒱ hurt

꒰ Q ꒱ love

꒰ R ꒱ sickness

꒰ S ꒱ exhaustion

꒰ T ꒱ betrayal

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a setting

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ the corner bed in a hospital ward

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ a spare bedroom

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ an alleyway behind a dive bar

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ a mountainside shrouded in fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a skeevy motel just off the highway

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a barren industrial plant in the middle of nowhere

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ the lush, indulgent foyer of a member’s only club

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ the war room of a military blacksite

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ the produce aisle of a 24/7 supermarket

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ the walk-in fridge of a failing restaurant

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ a rickety old barn’s hayloft

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ at work, far later than you should be

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ a stranger’s bed at dawn

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ an airplane hanger

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a medical bay that stinks of antiseptic and fear

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ the kitchen of a derelict house

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ the dressing room of a luxury department store

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ the place where grassy plains meet desert dunes

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ a beach at low tide

[rp-meme-glaceon]

💤 Peek into my Character's Dreams 💤

💭 - An ordinary dream

🎀 - A dream that left them feeling happy

☔ - A dream that left them feeling upset

🌈 - A dream from their childhood

🗯️ - An ordinary nightmare

🐛 - An intense nightmare that made them wake up in a cold sweat

⚰️ - A dream/nightmare that featured someone no longer in their life

🌡️ - A fever dream

📿 - A dream your character believes is prophetic

👁️‍🗨️ - A lucid dream

🛏️ - A dream that made your character want to go back to sleep so they could continue the dream

[leqonsluv3r]

PROMPT 3 WITH LEON I BEG

oh! darling

prompt: "please don't stop.”

—re!4 leon kennedy x reader

contains nsfw content, MDNI, 18+

masterlist taglist prompt game

you don’t know how you ended up in the backseat of your boyfriends car, getting eaten out like a five course meal, your legs trembling around his head. his large hands holding onto your hips and stomach, keeping your stomach flat.

you don’t know at what point the teasing turned to taunting, the kissing turned passionate and he decided to eat you out until you were screaming and practically dripping all over his backseat.

you don’t know how he managed to pull the car into a field, tucked into brushes and trees at night. you also don’t know how long it took the windows of his car to steam up, or at what point they did.

all you knew is that you couldn’t stop trembling and shaking as he ate you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your mouth and body. all of a sudden after the aftershocks of her last orgasm, he presses kisses on the insides of your trembling thighs.

“i don’t think i can go anymore. i think…i think…” you try to talk but your brain is muddled and empty. all you can think about is the exhaustion in your body and how he pulled so many orgasms out of you with just his mouth and fingers alone. you don’t know if you can even take anymore.

he laughs softly against your thigh, his breath fanning against the skin there, “you also said that after the first one…but look,” he gestures to the mess you probably made on his seat. “your dripping everywhere. i think you can handle one more.” he says with an almost feline smirk on his lips.

you didn’t think you could. you would probably pass out before he even pulled another one for you.

but he shocked you by sitting up in the back of his car and pulling your naked and sweaty body ontop of him, your thighs straddling over his.

“what are you doing?” you slur in a desire drunken haze as you steady your palms onto his bare shoulders. he chuckles and presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek, smoothing a hand down into your hair. “i’m fucking you.” he rasps as he maneuvers your body so that your able to ride him.

“i can’t…i can’t ride you.” you mumble in a whiny protest as you feel him rub his erection in between your drenched folds. “i can’t…” you whine again in desperation.

he shakes his head, his blonde strands moving with him, “you don’t have to do anything, just sit on my cock and look at me all pretty. i’ll take care of it.” he says with some minor confidence.

you don’t even care about the logistics of how, that’s out the window and not even in your brain anymore. you feel horny but overstimulated and tired. you feel like you could just fall asleep ontop of him and pass out from the mindless way he’s been pulling orgasms from you.

you can’t even protest or get the words out before he’s lifting you up by the flesh of your thighs and lowering you onto his cock. basically spearing you from the inside out, even though he slipped in with no resistance.

you choke back a small noise, mixed between a sob and a moan. because, how can this feel so good and so overwhelming at the same time? doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him in your relationship, it’s still a tight fit.

“fuck me…your so fucking — christ…” he mutters in a strained tone as he ducks his head into your shoulder, keeping you still on his lap. your head is lulling backwards and you can’t even fight the energy to even care how fucked out you probably look.

“leon…” you whine softly, your brows furrowing as you try to just sit still and not even move on instinct. he grips the flesh of your hips tighter, “don’t. don’t say my name like that right now.” he mutters as he tries to not blow his load like pubescent boy.

he slowly begins to move you up and down on his lap, slowly thrusting in and out of you. both of your breaths ragged and strained with exhaustion and desire. your both pushing each other to the limits to make yourselves feel good and its showing. he can’t stop groaning and making noises, which only makes you clench around him tighter. “please…fuck, baby, christ.” he practically begs as he keeps slowly thrusting up into you. his hands holding firmly onto your hips as he aims to get you off, yet again.

you have no idea what he’s begging for but you probably have a good idea as to what.

but your getting impatient, he’s not hitting the right spot and as sensitive as you already are, you figured you would’ve cum by now. you haven’t and it’s frustrating you so much that you begin to take matters into your own hands. you start meeting his thrusts despite your exhaustion and frustration. he notices this and leans his head back with a small groan, loving that you’ve started to fuck him.

he almost doesn’t want to look as you begin to ride him, you’ve done it plenty of times before so its kind of ingrained in his memory. he can almost picture it in his mind — you bouncing up and down on his cock, your pupils dilated with lust and hunger, your breasts bouncing and your head thrown back. god, the image in his mind alone is enough to make him —

“please don’t stop…” he finds himself saying in a voice that sounds nothing like him at all, all whiny and pathetic. like your torturing him by riding him. neither of you would admit this out loud but their was always an unspoken rule in your relationship, that you liked it when the roles were sometimes switched. so when he practically moaned that through the car as you rode his cock, you squeezed around him and gripped at his bare shoulders. desperate to get him to the same peak as you.

you don’t know how long you rode him, it felt like a whole year had passed but in reality it was only a couple of minutes. you hit that spot when you bounced down on him and kept chasing it, his moans low to high and whiny were making you feel elated. like you were reaching the peak and you could accomplish anything if you made him cum.

he grips the fat of your hips tightly again and holds onto you desperately as you feel that knot unravel in your stomach, “fuck, gonna cum…leon…” you moan with a small whine at the end, keeping up your pace on top of him even though your legs were beginning to hurt. you couldn’t stop, not when you were so close and so was he —

“oh! shit!” you whined loudly as you interrupted your own thoughts and clenched around his cock as you came. your legs and your whole entire body shaking as you fell apart ontop of him.

he groaned loudly, it was almost too much for him as he buried his head into your neck and kept you on top of him. feeling you come undone was just enough for him as you rode out your high on his cock.

“that’s it baby, it’s okay…” he says in a raspy voice as he lets you slide up and down on his cock a little slower. he could feel his own muscles tense up as he practically growled against her neck, coming undone with a shaky exhale. he swears he almost saw stars for a moment as he erupted inside of you.

thrusting his come up into you as you both slowed the pace of your own movements. making yourselves slowly come down and come back to earth. you let leon talk you through it as you stayed ontop of him, letting him plug the cum inside of you.

you buried your head into his shoulder as his hand came up and stroked your hair, untangling the messy knots in it. his hand running down to your spine and tracing patterns to soothe you.

he knew he took a lot from you tonight, he was aware. but you also knew that it was worth it. all the pain and exhaustion was worth it when he brought bliss to the both of you tenfold. he loved seeing you fall apart as much as he loved being the one to do it. it gave him satisfaction and comfort knowing that when you were with him, you were taken care of.

and you always would be.

“you feeling okay?” he whispers against your sweaty temple as he still traces his fingers over your spine. you nod against his shoulder and let out a couple ragged breaths. “yeah, i feel okay.” you whisper softly as you drag your eyes up to look at him.

“i love you baby.” he says softly as he strokes his hand up to your cheek, rubbing his thumb under the skin of your eye. you melt into a puddle of softness and goo underneath his caring touch, so gentle and contrasted to how he pleasures you.

“i love you too.” you whisper. and you mean it, you couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

not like leon.

an: i’m sorry this took so ungodly long for me to finish and post. i’ve had so much going on in my personal life and it’s been very very chaotic lately. but i managed to finish and post!!! yay!!! three cheers for me, pls, i need it right now. i’ll be posting more consistently since my life has become a little less crazy, i hope you guys enjoyed. pls reblog and like!! it supports small lil writers like myself. i love you all, kisses. xx

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @porcelainseashore @squazmine @spfoah @jmivenus (if you wanted to be added, interact with the link at the beginning!! <3)

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi, can you please write a Yan!Daenerys prompt 27?

[27]; "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

❝tw: mention of death, mildly angst (?) and obsessive behavior.

The smell of ash and blood filled King's Landing almost like a plague. The screams of those burned by Drogon, once so excruciating, became just uncomfortable memories in Daenerys' mind.

For that was all they would eventually become. It wasn't right but Daenerys didn't care. She no longer cared about becoming what she became. As long as she had you in her life, the entire world could be consumed by dragon fire.

You were all that mattered to her.

Daenerys watched the devastation around her, her eyes fixed on the smoldering ruins of the city that once represented the heart of the Realm. Her expression was a mix of cold determination and a rare tenderness reserved only for you.

She did it for you. All for you.

"I did this for us. For you." Daenerys whispered in awe, more to herself than anyone else. Your presence beside her was an anchor amidst the chaos, a shining light in the darkness she had created.

You looked at her as if you no longer recognized her and, in a way, that was true. This was no longer the Daenerys you knew and once loved. This was a shell of what she once was.

A woman dominated by grief and the fear of losing someone else she loved. And only the gods knew what Daenerys would do to the world if something happened to you.

"Some things need to be destroyed so that others can flourish." She continued, turning to look at you. "They would never understand. They would never accept the world I want to build."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze. There was a deep pain there, a loneliness that only you seemed able to alleviate. Even with all the power and destruction she commanded, Daenerys was, deep down, a woman looking for love and acceptance. And she wanted that from you, just you.

Her gaze, although filled with burning passion, had a coldness that hadn't existed before. The glow in her eyes was now more intense, but also emptier, as if an essential part of her humanity had been consumed by the fire of her own despair.

And it hurt. The sight of a person you loved, maybe still love, being destroyed like this was too much to bear.

"You didn't have to do that." You tried to say, trying to reach the real Daenerys that remained somewhere inside her. "You didn't need to destroy King's Landing, you didn't need to burn all those people and destroy their home. There was another way, there always is."

But your words seemed to be lost in the freezing winter wind, swallowed by the distant sound of echoes from a city in ruins. She lifted her head and the strength in her voice left no room for doubt. "I can't go back anymore." She declared. "What's done is done. And now, you're all I have."

There was a palpable fear in her words, a fear of what might happen if you walked away, a fear that made her cry out for your presence, not just as a partner, but as her anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Not that she would let you get away, but she wouldn't want to hold you prisoner.

Daenerys looked at you with an intensity that mixed love and despair, her voice a painful whisper filled with truth. "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

Her words seemed to hang heavy in the air like a sentence of condemnation and devotion at the same time. She was not just revealing herself, but giving herself completely, displaying her scars and shadows as if they were a sign of absolute love.

What was left of Daenerys, the woman you loved and feared, was desperate to hold on to what she still could hold, even if it meant sacrificing the world around her. And when you looked into her violet eyes, you knew there was no going back.

She was your monster. Your queen. And she loved you so hard that she would be willing to burn the world to the ground, even if that wasn't your desire. It didn't matter in the end, though. Daenerys would always hold on to you.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

For the trope mashup thing whatever: arranged marriage and neighbors 👀 - CX

again not one i would've picked but thank you for prompting it !! this also uh, got longer than i thought.

(from the prompts mash up - still taking submissions)

--------

“What do you mean your visa’s running out?” Lando asks.

“I’m Australian. Not a magician. Commonwealth only gets you so far.” 

“I thought you were here on a scholarship.”

“Well. Yeah. But scholarships stop. Once you graduate.” 

Lando toes the doorway rug. It feels weird to be talking about this in the middle of the hallway, though the only other person who would be listening might be Mrs. Kapoor, and half the time it’s only because she sticks her head out to ask if Lando or Oscar would take one of her mystery vegan curries. Lando is neither a huge fan of vegan food nor curry, and he trusts Oscar’s word for it that it’s good because they eat it while playing Gran Turismo at Lando’s place. But Lando always accepts the curries nonetheless, because his parents raised him to be polite, and he wasn’t raised in a barn. (Even if he technically grew up in converted farmhouse in the countryside, but that was besides the point.)  Either way, this is slipping away from him much quicker than he’d anticipated. Late night hangouts, dropping mail and post-it notes, text messages about the community garden. The most inane smalltalk about things big and small from the origins of moths to whether aliens were out there or just chose to ignore the +44 area code. Oscar always laughing in the right places when Lando regales him about tales of his terrible online dating stories, Oscar always picking the pickles out of the roast beef bagels before he passes one to Lando. The corner of Lando’s sofa that Lando has started to think of as Oscar’s because he’s there so often, reading one of his books or trying to speedread a JSTOR article about the lifecycle of urban pathogens while Lando worked on artwork for his upcoming store launch. 

Lando’s synapses are firing too fast. His brain did that most days, and that was what made him exceedingly good at his job, and today in particular - it doesn’t feel like there’s any logical way out. 

Lando remembers that movie they watched once though. As a joke. The one they both pretended not to enjoy, with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in Alaska. The one they watched when Oscar sat next to Lando on the sofa, and they both pretended the entire night that their knees weren’t touching. 

His therapist said he had a tendency to get ahead of himself when under stress. But it’s a joke, it’s not serious, there’s no way—

“We could just like, get married.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. That came out way more calm and cooler than he thought it actually would.  And to his credit, Oscar doesn’t drop his mug of tea. Lando knows that’s his favourite one, because Lando got it for him, and it says Science is my superpower. Oscar does, however, slightly shift his grip on the mug.

“I feel like it’d be complicated to explain to my mum why I randomly married my upstairs neighbour?” 

“But it’s not a no.”

Oscar tilts his head. There’s a glimmer of something focused, maybe even hungry in his eyes. Oscar gets like that when his mind turns, when he’s working on an especially difficult thesis, when the pieces are forming and he can lock into the crucial details.

Lando is a little alarmed at how much he already recognises it, and how much more often he’d like to draw that reaction out. 

“If the facts don’t fit the theory, then reexamine the facts. Right?” Oscar says.

And Lando is there, in the doorway. Conscious that Mrs Kapoor might’ve heard everything, but all the more conscious that there’s a hammering in his heart that he can’t tell is nervousness, or anticipation. 

What’s the stress limit for a joke you’re probably already pushing too far? Lando thinks.

He isn’t sure.

But maybe it’s a thesis worth testing out.  

-------------

(and ok maybe i cheated a little on arranged marriage but i think this is the closest i could get with the contemporary context. thank you @cx-boxbox for the prompt <3)

[emsprovisions]

I know I am being greedy here but,

3. I can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, TK

8. being ur partner's mum's favorite.

from romance prompt please.

From this list of writing prompts that I am no longer accepting. Hello anon! Someone else has also asked for no. 3 so I will answer theirs :)

being ur partner's mum's favorite.

Carlos sits on the couch, his ankle crossed over his opposite knee and a beer in his hand as he watches his husband playing firefighter with action figures and a toy fire engine with their young sobrinos on the floor. They keep pausing because they want to hear TK’s stories from his firefighter days, since apparently–according to Six-and-eight-year-old Diego and Juliana–paramedics aren’t as cool. They giggle as TK keeps playfully correcting their terminology of the ladder truck and exactly how many inches of line they should start and Carlos’s heart just swells. 

“Ay, TK?” Carlos’s mom pops her head in from the backdoor, “Are you in here, mijo?”

“What do you need, Ma?” Carlos sits up, uncrossing his legs and making to get up.

“Oh, no, you stay right there, Carlitos. I need TK’s expertise.”

“It’s fine, babe, I could do with stretching my legs anyway,” TK smiles up at Carlos. He gets up, much to Diego and Juliana’s dismay, and promises he’ll be back. He purposely walks around the couch so he can pass Carlos, stooping to kiss the top of his head as he does so. 

After TK disappears, Carlos is left alone with his sobrinos, and they coax him into playing firefighter with him instead. But Tío TK does it better than Tío Carlos, evidently. 

When TK’s been gone for too long, and Carlos’s brother-in-law wanders in to check on his kids, Carlos stands up. 

“Have you seen TK?” He asks Ricardo as he approaches. 

“He’s out on the back porch,” Ricardo says, almost bitterly. “With your mom, and Tía Lucy, and my wife.”

“Uh, thanks,” Carlos says, looking at Ricky apprehensively before excusing himself in search of his husband. 

TK’s got a glass of sweet tea in his hand, slapping his knee, while Ana clings to his arm, gasping for breath. 

“No way!” She laughs. “Tonterías! That did not happen.”

“It did,” TK nods. “I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

TK looks up as the screen door swings shut and sees Carlos step out before anyone else. 

“Hey, baby!” TK calls. “Come join us.”

Carlos lingers by the door, watching TK fit in with his family so seamlessly. They’ve been married for nearly a year now, but sometimes it still surprises him that he has this. He not only gets to be himself, he gets to be himself around his family, and they are all enamored with TK, too. 

TK’s smiling at him, patting the empty seat beside him and Carlos smiles and slides onto the long bench beside his husband, an arm going around his shoulder and TK’s hand falling into place on top of his knee. 

“What did I interrupt?” Carlos asks. 

“Oh, I was just telling everyone about that call we got the other day, where the neighbors were having a domestic dispute and one of them threw pickle juice all over my patient and it turned out she’s allergic to pickles,” TK grins, catching Carlos up on the story. “Ana here doesn’t believe that we get calls as ridiculous as that all the time.”

“That’s because that’s impossible!” Ana scoffs. “Who’s allergic to pickles??”

“My patient, evidently,” TK smirks at her. 

Carlos laughs, “There’s a lot of stupid people in this world, Ana. You would not believe the absurdity of some of the calls I used to get under APD.”

“Babe, you get ridiculous cases now too,” TK reminds him. 

“Cuéntanos más de tus historias, TK.”

TK smiles warmly at Tía Lucy over in her blue adirondack chair in the deck before looking up to Carlos for help. 

“Tía wants to hear more of your stories,” Carlos tells him, looking up at his great aunt and the delight on her face. She can’t speak English, but she can mostly understand it, and joy and humor are universal languages anyways. 

TK launches into more funny stories from different calls before Ricardo comes outside with a screaming Diego, and it’s time for Ana to go home. 

Andrea takes TK inside and Carlos is tasked with helping Tía Lucy inside and to her chair in her room. 

“You have a sweet young man, Carlitos,” she tells him in Spanish. “Muy guapo y divertido.”

It’s not the first time she’s commented on TK. Honestly, Tía Lucy always fawns over Carlos’s husband to the point Carlos wonders if she doesn’t have some schoolgirl type crush on him. Carlos has no idea how TK charms everyone that comes into his orbit, he’s just happy he’s the lucky guy TK vowed forever with. 

“I think so too, Tía,” Carlos responds in Spanish, winking at her. 

They chat for a while longer before Tía Lucy says she’s tired. Carlos kisses her cheek and wishes her a goodnight. He wanders back out into the main room to find TK and his mom chatting in hushed voices on the couch. TK has his hand on Andrea’s arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her skin. She pulls him into a tight hug, then kisses his cheek and whispers something into his ear.

Carlos watches the scene unfold, feeling a little bad for interrupting. But before he can duck into the kitchen unnoticed, his mom catches sight of him. 

“Oh, Carlitos!” She pulls away from TK and wipes delicately at the skin beneath her eyes. 

“Hi, Mamá. Everything okay?” Carlos asks, coming nearer to them.

“We’re okay,” TK reassures. His eyes are a bit shiny too. He reaches out for Carlos’s hand and Carlos comes close enough to give it to him.

Neither of them offer up any hint of what their conversation was about, but Andrea stands up and gives Carlos a warm and tight hug. And even though he’s almost twice her size, he still folds easily into his mother’s arms. 

It’s not until they’re in the car, driving down the 35, the darkness of the night stretching all around them and Carlos’s hand extended over the console on TK’s thigh, does Carlos find the bravery to ask what that was about.

TK plays with Carlos’s fingers with both hands and says in a quiet voice, “She was talking to me about being a Ranger’s spouse…”

Carlos glances over at TK. It’s hard to get a read on him as they pass through swathes of light from oncoming headlights and the rare street light. 

“Oh?”

TK shakes his head, “You’ve been in law enforcement the entire time we’ve been together, baby, it’s not like her advice was anything I haven’t already worried about before.”

“What did she say?” Carlos asks, his anxiety spiking and suddenly wishing he’d saved this conversation for home so he could see TK better. 

TK’s fingers keep brushing over his knuckles. “She just wanted me to know you could be in danger sometimes, which again, isn’t really new. But she also wanted me to know if I ever need to talk to someone about what I’ll go through as your husband, I could talk to her.”

Carlos glances over again, softening a bit at his mom offering that to TK. “What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s nice.” Carlos can hear the smile in TK’s voice. “I love your mom, and I love that she would want to be there to help me support you.”

“Buuut…?”

“No but’s,” TK says, shaking his head. “She says we’re a strong couple, and sees how much we love each other. She thinks we can handle anything.”

“She’s not the only one,” Carlos smiles, squeezing TK’s thigh. 

“No,” TK smiles. “She’s not the only one. She told me the best thing I can do for you is love you, and remind you you’re never alone in life, and remind you to take care of yourself and put work away when you’re home.” 

Carlos turns his palm up and TK gives him his hand, lacing their fingers together. He takes it a step further by cradling Carlos’s arm and tilting sideways to lean against Carlos’s bicep. 

“You do a good job of making sure I’m taken care of, baby,” Carlos says softly as he takes their exit for home. 

“You’re worth it,” TK says simply, turning his face to kiss Carlos’s shoulder. 

“You know my family’s enamored with you, right?” Carlos smiles.

TK laughs and teases, “Are you jealous Tía Lucy dotes on me now more than you?”

“No,” Carlos says, his voice light. “I love seeing you with our family. It makes me happy.”

TK snuggles up against Carlos’s arm even more in the passenger seat and Carlos tells him he better not fall asleep when they’re five minutes from home. He feels TK’s smile against his arm, and fondness for his husband impossibly grows. 

TK sure does know how to steal a Reyes’s heart.

[pixieskie]

smut prompt 62 with scara- "I bet all our neighbours can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are."

-cw: sex, hint of cnc, rough sex, edging, degradation, praise, hint of dacryphilia and masochism. -word count: 0.3k. -a/n: gawd i love writing for scara smm, hope yall enjoy dis.

main masterlist

-prompt game: you can send in any requests for the prompt game here

the bedroom was filled with the sound of your whimpers.

“scara, please i cant take it anymore” you whined, tears starting to cloud your vision.

your boyfriend had been at it for hours now, edging you beyond relief. as for now, he had you on your stomach as he rammed into you.

he only cooed at your words “didn't think about this while you were teasing me hm?” he continued thrusting into you.

trailing his fingers over your stomach, he felt his bulge inside you "such a perfect little whore for me". He trailed his fingers until they reached your head and pulled you back by your hair, making you look at him.

a sharp moan escaped your lips as you look at him. you could only squirm and babble nonsense as he rammed into you relentlessly.

his hand left your hair and gripped your neck “i bet all our neighbours can hear you, i bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.” he uttered between thrusts. “gonna cum for me doll?”

you nodded while biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to contain your lewd noises while his other hand made its way to your clit and circled it.

this was enough to snap the knot in your stomach. your legs shook as you let out a loud moan. your boyfriend let go of your throat, allowing your head to fall on the pillow but he kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he helped you ride out your high. “that's it darling, so tight for me.. so perfect” 

[1425fivefive]

58. Lestappen (?)

58. kiss out of necessity - lestappen

“You need to kiss me!” Charles demands, face flushed from alcohol and the heat of the club. He’s glaring at Max as if Max is being completely unreasonable in refusing to kiss him.

Max groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Charles, why can’t you just turn people down like a normal person? You don’t need to lie about having a boyfriend. Just tell that girl you don’t want to go home with her.”

“But that would be rude,” Charles argues, pouting. Max tries very hard not to find it cute.

“Less rude than making me kiss you, certainly,” Max points out.

Charles makes a small, hurt noise, blinking up at Max. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Uh,” Max stutters.

Charles looks gorgeous, even in the shitty club lighting. His hair’s mussed with sweat, his blue eyes bright even in the dim light of the club, his pink lips slick with the gin and tonics Max has been buying him all night.

Charles’s eyes flick down to Max’s lips and Max knows, then, that he’s going to give in. He’s wanted to kiss Charles for years—forever, maybe—and if this is the only way he’ll get to have Charles, he’ll take it. Anything to feel the soft heat of Charles’s lips against his. Even if it’s just this once.

“Okay,” Max says, voice shaky.

Charles’s throat bobs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Okay?”

Max takes a shuddery breath, eyes locked on Charles’s, and nods, once.

Charles slides a hand into Max’s hair, and pulls him in for a kiss, Max’s hands coming up to grip Charles’s waist. Charles makes a soft, small noise at the feeling, pressing closer to Max, and Max can’t help but slide a hand around to Charles’s lower back, pressing Charles tighter to him.

The kiss lasts for ages, only ends when Charles pulls back, panting roughly.

“I lied,” Charles breathes. 

Max makes a confused noise.

“There wasn’t a girl,” Charles says, smiling softly. “I just really wanted to kiss you.”

Max laughs, breathless, awed. “You’re ridiculous,” he says fondly.

Charles shrugs. “Maybe,” he says, grinning. “But I think you might like that about me.”

Max doesn’t need to say anything. Instead, he just pulls Charles in for another slow kiss, smiling against Charles's lips when Charles lets out a small, pleased hum.

kiss prompt ask game here

[dipperscavern]

robb stark would comfort you after a nightmare and then fuck you to sleep send tweet

[noturlondonboy]

Asking from the prompt list, 37 holding hand and someone point it out !

Not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

I love them so much I’ll cry

——

Kate wasn’t sure why she had decided to forego gloves when she left her apartment in the morning, but sometime halfway through her walk with Clint and their respectively favorite Black Widows, the chill in the air had stopped bothering her reddened fingers.

With Yelena on her right, Clint and Natasha just ahead of them, and the dogs on either side of the older Avengers, the six of them made their own ragtag pack. It made Kate’s chest squeeze pleasantly whenever she had the energy to think about it.

“Kate Bishopppp, you are so slowwwww,” Yelena whines playfully from beside her, her smile bright and eyes glimmering. Kate can’t help but to return the grin. On any normal day, Yelena was breathtaking, but out here, in the early morning January chill, with her cheeks rosy and her button nose tipped with pink, it took all of Kate’s willpower not to kiss her.

”You’re staring.” The blonde next to her gives a little giggle, the creases in the corners of her eyes deepening as her smile grows. Kate shakes her head and has the decency to feel sheepish, but her heart is glowing comfortably.

”Sorry, sorry,” the archer laughs quietly, her stomach tingling with butterflies. They continue to grin at each other, their feet moving them without much thought of where they were.

“You are still very slow,” Yelena teases, her head tilting closer to Kate.

”You don’t have to keep walking with me.” Kate leans in closer in turn, their breaths clouding together in the cold air and warming her chin. It sends shivers down her spine, completely unrelated to the chill.

“Maybe if you stopped dragging each other around by your hands you’d be better at keeping up.” Natasha’s voice is a sudden sharp contrast when it cuts through the heat and tension between Yelena and Kate, and the two woman startle, the hands wrenching apart.

Kate stares down at her hand and wiggles her fingers as her cheeks blaze. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding Yelena’s hand, and by the similarly flustered look on the blonde’s face, neither had she.

Natasha barks a laugh, the dogs dancing around her feet in confused excitement. Clint only gives a small smile at the two of them before he continues to walk.

Kate keeps her hands in her pockets for the rest of the walk, but the shared glances with Yelena don’t stop, and when they return back to the compound, the assassin’s bruised knuckles brush over the archer’s calloused ones.

[mcsstydia]

Protect you - Peeta Mellark

prompt: you won the 73rd hunger games. and now you've fallen for the male tribute of the 74th. although he made it out alive, the two of you are now tributes for the third quarter quell.

pairing: peeta mellark x reader

Warnings: angst about the games

A/N: what can I say? I'm in love again....

word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

It was the sound of an earth-shattering thunder that finally awoke you from yet another nightmare. You opened your eyes just in time for them to catch a glimpse of a lighting through your open window. You slowely got to your feet and walked towards the window. Droplets of rain were already making their way onto your bedroom floor.

You leaned against the window still and gazed out into the stormy night. Rain and storms had always been something that calmed you. Whereas most other people groaned upon the arrivl of a storm, or fled into their homes when their skin began to wetten, your eyes lightened up whenever the skies cloudened.

Your nightmare had, of course, been about the upcoming quarter quell. You were scared to death about it. Not about dying, no. The 73rd hunger games, in which you had participated (and won) had already done their part about scaring you about dying.

No, this time, you were scared about Peeta. The boy from your district, who was just one year younger than you, and who you had, unfortunately, deeply fallen in love with. You see, when haymitch chose Katniss to survive in the arena of last year's games, you chose Peeta. You did everything in your power to protect him.

You flirted with sponsors, you spoke so highly of Peeta anything someone else would say about him would be uncomparable. Hell, you would have even slept with a sponsor had it meant you would get Peeta out of the games alive. Then you had the idea with Katniss and Peeta playing the star-crossed lovers.

the idea tugged at your heart, yes, but the feeling was nothing compared to the small sense of hope it gave you that Peeta could actually live a full life after the games. You knew in an instant that would mean that you could never be with him, not in a romantic sense, anyway. But it didn't matter. You would have given up everything for him. Even your own life.

And you were right, it didn't matter that you could not be with him. Because at this year's quarter quell, you would die anyway. President Snow wanted as many victors dead as possible, you knew that. Especially you, since you had the idea with the star-crossed lovers that led to two victor's in the games of last year.

So it was only fair that you volunteered when Katniss's name was drawn for the quarter quell. It wasn't her fault. It was yours. You didn't have anyone to come home to, anyway. Your family was dead, hers was still alive.

What did not make sense, and still does not, is why Peeta volunteered when Effie drew Haymitch's name. Peeta was in love with Katniss. You could see it, everytime he looked at her. Also, he was supposed to be in love with Katniss, otherwise everyone of you four would be in great trouble. Well, you were now, anyway. So why did he volunteer? Why did he throw away his life, the one you fought so hard for? The one you wanted him to have?

Another lightning struck, bringing you back to reality. You looked down onto the street of the victor's village. You had a direct view of Peeta's house, as it was across from yours. This is the reason you could see Peeta so clearly standing in his kitchen on the ground floor.

You cought his gaze, saw him looking up at you. For a moment, he looked almost embarassed. It was a facial expression you had never seen on him, which brought a smile to your lips. He averted his gaze and turned around and you thought he would just go back upstairs into his bedroom again. Instead, you watched him put on shoes and a jacket, turn off the light in the kitchen, and then open and close his front door.

You had to wonder for about one second about where he could possibly go before you noticed he was heading for your house. Your cheeks heated up and you shook your head, willing the redness to go away before you had to open your front door.

Peeta didn't knock or rang the bell, and you opened the door in silence after you ran down the stairs. There he stood, a shy grin spread on his lips and hands burried deep into the pockets of his sweatpants.

''Hi,'', he whispered, and it took everything in you not to grin out od excitement. But why, though? Why should you pretend the sight of him at your front door didn't set your heart ablaze? Who should you pretend for, anymore? In a few days, you would be dead, so why not let the boy know you were happy to see him?

A cautious, but genuine smile began to occupy your lips as you stepped aside, further opened your front door, and let him enter your house. You quietly closed the door behind him, and as you turned towards him, he had already rid himself of his jacket and shoes.

You took him in. All of him. You had to, for the last few days of your life. You could not let anything about him go unnoticed. You wanted to die being able to draw him from memory, to know every detail about him. You cuaght his gaze and you could tell he knew you were studying him.

It was no longer embarrassing. Why should it be? Nothing mattered anymore. ''Tea?'', you asked, voice quiet but not hoarse. ''Sure'', Peeta replied, his voice smooth and calming. The two of you went into the kitchen. You stood on opposite ends of your kitchen table as you waited for the water to boil.

The silence was not uncomfortable, yet you had to break it, you had to ask him, to finally know why he had to put himself in the games again when you worked to hard to get him out of the first ones.

''Why did you do it?'', you asked, staring out of your kitchen window, watching the rain fall mercilessly onto the ground. You turned towards Peeta now, but from the look on his face, you could tell he knew what you were talking about.

His gaze faced the floow, before finally, slowly, setting on you. He took a breath. ''You deserve to know,'', he said, to no one in particular. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion, yet you didn't push him, you knew he would tell you what you wanted to know anyway.

His gaze again dropped to the floor, but when he focused his eyes on yours again, this time, they stayed there. Peeta took another breath, this time seeming sure, seeming certain, his eyes not looking away from yours for even a second.

''You.'', he breathed out. Before you could react at all, either in confusion or acceptance, he continued. ''Because there isn't anything in this world I wouldn't do for you. Because I would rather die protecting you in the arena than live a life without you entirely. Because I want you to be the last person I see before I die. Because you are everything, everything to me. Because I love you.''

For a moment, it was so quiet all you could hear were the deafening sounds of the rain outside, and the blood pumping in your ears on the inside. Your breath got caught in your throat for a second too long, so when you exhaled, it was loud, almost a sound of relief.

Your heart was beating rapidly, telling you to go to him, kiss him, hug him, cry, for god's sake, do anything! But all you could bring yourself to say was: ''But, Katniss?'', it wasn't a full question, let alone a sentence, but yet again, Peeta seemed to have the ability to understand you without further ado.

''If you haven't noticed, I'm a pretty good actor,'', was all he said. He searched your eyes for a sign for, well, anyhing. Peeta took a tentative step towards you, still trying to decipher what you were thinking now.

''So it was all...'', you began. ''The act you proposed? Yes. I did everything you asked of me. Nothing more. I love Katniss, yes. As a friend. But who I cannot spend my life without is standing right in front of me. And I could not let you go into that arena, let alone let you die, without telling you.'', he explained.

The words were still registering in your head, your heart still beating loud and fast, urging you to finally give in to the feelings you had harboured for so long. This changed everything. ''But,'' you began.

''I'm your mentor,'', you said stupidly. There were a thousand things you wanted to tell him, and this was the one you came up with? Your statement actually elicited a laugh from the boy you would, quite literally, die for.

''Actually, your my fellow tribute now.'', he corrected you. You stayed silent, eyes trained on him, mouth shut out of fear. What good would it be, to tell him you felt the same way? You would be dead in a few days, and you would, again, do everyting so he could live.

''Look,'', he began, and with another two steps finally closed the distance between the two of you. Tentatively, and all the while looking for clues on your face that you wanted him to stop, he raised his right hand and cupped your cheek. This was it. You finally gave in. You leaned your head into the comfort of his warm, smooth hand and closed your eyes in contentment.

''You don't have to say anything back, but I wjust wanted you to know. I wanted you to know why I volunteered. And I wanted you to know why I will do everything in my power so you get out of that arena alive.'', his voice was quiet now. You had opened your eyes again, and he searched your eyes for a clue about what you were thinking.

Stupid boy! Stupid, stupid boy. To think you would let him die for you! To think your heart was yearning for anyone's but his!

''I love you,'', you finally whispered. Although you were furious with him. ''I love you so much it hurts. It hurt seeing you with Katniss, but it was the only way to get you out of there alive. I had to pretend it didn't hurt, when I knew I could never be with you. Oh, but hurt it did! It hurts even more now, to know you will go into that arena again!'', you averted your gaze from the blue of his eyes, afraid your body would betray you and tears would start pouring from your eyes.

Peeta's hand on your cheek guided your head back so you had to look at him again. ''I wanted to protect you,'', he whispered, and leaned his forehead against yours. ''And I wanted to protect you!'', you almost exclaimed, overwhelmed will all orts of feelings.

You looked deep into his eyes, a place where you wished you could stay forever. ''I can't let you do this Peeta, I can't-'', you were cut off by the soft feeling of this lips on yours.

For a moment, everything around you started spinning. You could now feel both of his hands engulfing your face. You could feel the warm breath fanning over your face, intermingling with yours. You ciuld feel the warmth of his body, drawing you into him. Your hands found the hems of his shirt and you held on tightly, afraid you would pass out if you didn't.

And, of course, you could feel his lips, and how they felt as they pressed and moved against yours. You had dreamed about this experience before. You had wondered how it would feel like, how he would taste, and smell. But nothing could have ever prepared you for how your stomach turned into excited knots, and how his lips were so smooth and how he tasted of toothpaste and smelled what you could only describe as home.

After some time, you had no telling of how long it had been, the both of you slowly pulled apart. Your eyes stayed closed a little while longer, your lips wore a genuine, content smile. When you opened your eyes, Peeta looked at you as if you were his whole world, and you wondered how you had missed this look for so long.

''I love you so much, you could never understand just how much,'',he whispered, and placed a delicate, but far too short-lasting kiss on your lips. ''I have a feeling I understand it quite well,'', you replied and took one of his hands into yours, caressing his fingers with yours.

''Will you stay with me tonight?'', you asked, hope glinting in your eyes. Peeta softly put a strand of losse hair behind your ear. ''I would do absolutely anything for you, love.'', he replied, and you believed him.

Tea long forgotten, the both of you went upstairs int your bedroom. You spent the night together. You cuddled, you kissed, neither of your knowing how much time you had left together, but both of you knowing you would do everything for the other.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚��� build-a-fic no. 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a scent, an item of clothing and a weather forecast (a number, letter, + creature), and write/request to your heart’s content my dears!

𓂃 ࣪˖ a smell

꒰ 1 ꒱ rich, incensed perfume

꒰ 2 ꒱ burnt coffee

꒰ 3 ꒱ resinous pine needles

꒰ 4 ꒱ steadily-baking bread

꒰ 5 ꒱ inescapably strong disinfectant

꒰ 6 ꒱ expensive, pungent red wine

꒰ 7 ꒱ cheap cologne

꒰ 8 ꒱ salty air rolling off of crashing sea waves

꒰ 9 ꒱ mouth-watering home cooking

꒰ 10 ꒱ a too-strong vanilla candle

꒰ 11 ꒱ fresh-cut, perfectly ripe stone fruits

꒰ 12 ꒱ overpowering tiger balm

꒰ 13 ꒱ smoke unfurling from a wood fire

꒰ 14 ꒱ spiced incense

꒰ 15 ꒱ all-too familiar coconut shampoo

꒰ 16 ꒱ strong herbal lavender

꒰ 17 ꒱ newly turned earth

꒰ 18 ꒱ motor oil

꒰ 19 ꒱ just-washed bedsheets

꒰ 20 ꒱ petrichor after a rainshower

𓂃 ࣪˖ a piece of clothing

꒰ A ꒱ a wrinkled black tie

꒰ B ꒱ mismatched socks

꒰ C ꒱ faded blue jeans

꒰ D ꒱ a hotel bathroom

꒰ E ꒱ a stolen hoodie

꒰ F ꒱ a crisp white button-down

꒰ G ꒱ an expensive, lush fur coat

꒰ H ꒱ a pair of beaten-up combat boots

꒰ I ꒱ plaid pajama pants

꒰ J ꒱ loose-fitting boxer shorts

꒰ K ꒱ a yellow football jersey

꒰ L ꒱ a papery hospital gown

꒰ M ꒱ a blue, lacy thong

꒰ N ꒱ a brown belt with a gold buckle

꒰ O ꒱ cheap swimming garb

꒰ P ꒱ six-inch high heels

꒰ Q ꒱ a dark-red evening gown

꒰ R ꒱ a thick knitted sweater

꒰ S ꒱ a chef’s white coat

꒰ T ꒱ a flimsily-made tourist t-shirt

𓂃 ࣪˖ a weather advisory

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ hammering, unrelenting rain

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ warm, golden sunshine

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ hair-raising rolls of thunder

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ thick, looming fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a clear, chilly evening

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ blazing heat

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ a nighttime lightning storm

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ a grey sky laden with rainclouds

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ cold, drizzly mist

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ an unexpected snowstorm

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ bone-chilling sleet

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ breathless humidity

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ blustery winds

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ rain-induced floods

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ spitting showers of hailstones

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a freezing, sudden drop in temperatures

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ a hurricane warning

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ a tropical storm

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ a warm, temperate breeze

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ road-closing landslides

[its-all-papaya]

trick or treat!!!!

come trick or treating!!

for you... a sequel idea/snippet ! carlando podium (and subsequent carlando Obscenely Husbandly Behavior) in mexico made me think the devil in me thoughts...

Lando is drunk when he returns - a little louder than he usually is, knocking into Oscar's suitcase with his toe and hissing "fuck" under his breath where he usually probably wouldn't.

His shoes hit the carpet with two separate thumps. He giggles at something quietly, phone screen lighting up the room Oscar'd made deliberately dark when he'd arrived back from the track. Still half asleep, Oscar watches through slitted eyes as Lando struggles out of his top and tosses it towards the arm chair for one of them to deal with in the morning. Him, probably. Lando's not sloppy, but he'd been dehydrated enough before dinner that his hangover is going to be a bitch long about their wake-up call at ten in the morning regardless.

The bathroom light goes on only a second before the door shuts, but Oscar gets enough of Lando's back, muscles shifting with the stretch of his shoulders, to reignite the spark from earlier. From the moments after they'd filmed, before Lando had run off, when Oscar had pressed him into the doorway and spread his hand all the way across Lando's fireproofs, still damp with podium champagne. And from the moments even later, when he'd tapped through Lando's private instagram story. And Carlos'.

The shower runs. One complaint from Oscar in Miami about sweat and club grime in the bed had taught Lando his lesson about that. Enough minutes tick by tonight, though, that Oscar begins to wonder which one of them Lando's doing it for. Afterparties always key him up that way, blowing his pupils out and sticking him to Oscar's back in bed even when he's not drunk or on anything. Going out always puts him in that mood, but Oscar's one mental loop of Carlos' face from crawling out of bed and right into the shower anyway. Like tonight's any different.

He writes the thoughts off as sleepy irrationality and forces his mind blank against the white noise of running water. By the time it cuts, he's been in and out enough that time is fuzzy; he can't be sure whether it had gone long enough for Lando to accomplish anything other than a quick rinse.

He smells neutral, like lemon hotel soap, when he slips under the covers and plasters himself to Oscar's side. And he's damp, still, like he hadn't really bothered to towel off much.

And naked.

His lips are hot when they land at Oscar's shoulder, his palm broad and warm when it slips across the dip of Oscar's spine where it's peeking out above the hotel duvet.

"Have fun?" Oscar mumbles into his pillow. It comes out muffled, slurred, like he's the one who'd been downing Ferrari-red shots less than ninety minutes back.

He can feel the way Lando's lips curve against his skin, "Knew you were awake."

"Wasn't."

"Are now."

Lando's half-hard against his thigh, shifting his hips in lazy little movements. If Oscar ignored him, he's probably not too far gone to roll over and sleep himself.

Oscar drags in one last lungful of warm air from his pillow, then turns onto his side, face-to-face with Lando and his cheeky, hazy grin.

"Because you woke me," he argues back lazily.

"You weren't that asleep," Lando's cheeks are still flushed from his shower and his teeth glint in the alarm-clock's light when he speaks, sharp, "You were watching Instagram stories forty-five minutes ago."

Oscar forces his face to hold shape.

"You check your story views?"

Lando's smirk turns delighted. Oscar gets the feeling he's stepped directly into a trap he hadn't known was being laid.

"Wasn't my story."

Oscar's next inhale catches halfway down his throat as his brain whites out at the implications. When he's somewhere between picturing Lando's chin tucked over Carlos' shoulder and trying not to do just that, he's interrupted with lips under his own jaw and five fingers spanning the entire length of his neck, shoulder to ear.

"You like watching?" Lando asks against his adam's apple.

It all plays back behind Oscar's eyes like a stop motion: podium, Carlos' arms out, hands clasped, heads bent together, smiles and shots and a dozen different arms around Lando's shoulders, mumbling happy Spanish into his ears until his grin broke broad and genuine. Oscar knows what they are, Carlos and Lando. But the spark in Lando's eyes when he tilts Oscar's chin back down with his finger and thumb says Lando knows what Oscar is, too.

Oscar hooks his hand behind Lando's knee and drags him closer until their hips are aligned, Lando's leg over Oscar's hip.

"You like being watched?" he whispers against Lando's mouth.

The first roll of their cocks together forces Lando's breath out in a hot rush across Oscar's lips. He threads his fingers into the back of Oscar's hair and kisses him long and deep, tongue so far in Oscar's mouth that Oscar swears he can taste the last of the tequila from Carlos' final story.

When they separate, Lando's eyes are all pupil, lips slick, hand tight around Oscar's nape.

"I like how you get when you're jealous."

Oscar presses his hips forward another time. His protest never comes.

[leqonsluv3r]

PROMPT 21 WITH OG RE4 LEON PLEEEASEEE

false god

prompt: “i love the way you look with my fingers inside you.”

— re4 leon x reader

contains NSFW content, MDNI, 18+

masterlist taglist prompt game

he had been at this for hours it seemed, it was either his face or his cock or his fingers. you had been dragged to the edge over and over again, your body shaking from the overwhelming release.

you didn’t know how much more you could take if you were honest, the push and pull of pleasure on your body was starting to take its toll.

but he was determined to make you forget all about the other guy who was hitting on you at the bar. he was determined to make you scream his name until you were a shaking and trembling mess.

if you had any rational bones in your body right now, you’d be upset with him being so possessive, so jealous and toxic over nothing. but he had such a sweet way to remind you that you were his and his only.

you couldn’t even tell how many times you’d fallen apart at this point. your body shaking and your chest rising and falling fast. he was giving you a break for now, tracing his fingers along your spine as you lay next to him in the bed you two shared.

you felt him press a kiss to your shoulder, a tender gesture to remind you that he wasn’t using you, that he loved you. he just needed you to know that you were his, that guys couldn’t just flirt with you.

“you okay, baby?” he asks in low timbre against your shoulder as he peppers kisses across the blades, running his hand over the curve of your hip.

“yeah, i’m okay. i’m just tired now, you fucked the life out of me.” you laugh softly as you feel your eyes strain to stay open. your body sagging against the caress of his fingers, a teasing but loving touch that made you melt every single time.

he tsks and shakes his head with an almost feline smile, “don’t you dare fall asleep. just one more, okay? one more.” he says in a daring taunt, the tone you’ve heard a million times before. he could see the exhaustion on your face but he was ready to go out with a bang before he let you sleep.

no pun intended.

you groan in somewhat annoyance and pleasure as he presses kisses to your neck, his hand that was on your hips traveled up your stomach and to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, making you keen and whine.

you squirmed uncontrollably like you had truly no control of your body anymore, leon did that to you. he was the only one that had ever made you feel so desperate and restless with just a simple touch.

he smirked against your neck as he played with your breasts, your back arching against his chest as he gently kissed up your neck and nipped at your earlobe a little.

you were already worked up all over again, didn’t matter that your clit was sore and swollen, or your breasts hurt from the constant arousal. you were already all wound up again, ready for leon to fuck the life out of you.

it was almost ridiculous. your mind was fuzzy and tired but your body was awake, ready to play.

leon knew this, he wasn’t an idiot. he had been with you long enough to know when you were aroused, ready for more. your body and mind would never tire of him, it made him very possessive deep down. he knew he was the only one that could touch you like this, get you all hot and bothered, make you a whining mess just for him.

it made him so aroused, so painfully aroused.

his cock was already hard again, never in his life had a girl had an effect on him like you did. it was bizarre, it needed to be studied by scientists.

“such a sweet girl, i love you.” he whispers huskily against her ear as he drifts his hand down from your breasts, cupping your wet pussy. you nod into his touch, “i love you too…” you whisper out.

his touch on your pussy, it’s making you keen, making you want everything all over again. even though the exhaustion hummed deep within your bones…you felt like you were all of a sudden alive.

like he was an injection of morphine, his touch aiding you to feel more alive just for him. it was addicting. he knew your body like a map and he was tracing the roads he knew better then anyone.

he stroked his finger over your clit, causing your head to fall back, your lips parted as you moaned softly. he chuckles lowly, “so fucking easy underneath my fingers. only for me.” he said whispers against your ear.

you moan as he continues rubbing at your clit, making you shake and shudder, your body still pent up from the previous orgasms. “only you…fuck…” the only one who could get her like this, this many times was him.

he adjusts so that you roll onto your back, his fingers rubbing over your clit and making your back arch underneath him. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans.

you can’t even focus on kissing him back, your heads a mess of his touch and the euphoria your feeling in your body. he slides his fingers down inside of you, his mouth moving down to your jaw.

“f-fuck…leon…i can’t…” you struggle to even get out words between whines and whimpers, your body and your pussy on two different wavelengths. you feel like that coil inside you is gonna snap, it’s going to be huge. you can feel it in your belly, “yes. you can babygirl.” he nips at the skin below her ear.

you whimper and keep writhing underneath his touch, your body practically vibrating as he pumps two fingers in and out of you. you feel like your whole body is on fire, you don’t know if you can last much longer. but his words, his encouragement is making you try for him.

you want to come for him.

he’s pulled so many orgasms out of you tonight, your body is pulled tight like a rubber band. he looks down at you though, his fingers pumping in and out of you. you look like the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen before.

your breasts covered in sweat and all puckered with arousal, your beautiful lips parted and pink and all swollen. he didn’t think you could ever be more gorgeous then you were right now, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

he can’t resist the words of lust that spill from his lips, “i love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” he says huskily as he watches your hooded eyes and how you moan, small pants of air leaving your mouth.

you could feel that coil inside of her become more tighter and tighter at his words, the way his fingers curled inside of her and made her fall apart into a shaking mess.

he presses a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans as you fall apart and gushes over his fingers with one more curl of them. you moan loudly against his lips, your entire body shaking.

you look up at him with a small grasp of your hooded eyes. looking up into his eyes, you feel him remove his fingers from inside of you and trail them up your body. he trails them up over her stomach and to her mouth, “suck.” he says in a gentle but firm tone.

you don’t hesitate, licking out at his two fingers and sucking them into your mouth, tasting your release on his skin. “so good…” he says in a gentle tone, his praise sweeping over you.

you press a kiss to his lips and let him taste you on your tongue. you look up into his eyes, “you still okay? you ready to sleep now?” he says with a small lazy smile as he looks down at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

you nod and yawn a little, your eyes opening and closing sleepily. you knew that he would do this for you only, the previous partners you’d been with had never given you orgasm after orgasm. and given you good aftercare and cuddles afterwards.

you were lucky, so mindlessly lucky.

you would worship the ground he walked on because he loved you and your body unconditionally and that was good enough.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @nic-nat @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @laceycoffins @porcelainseashore @squazmine (interact with the link at the beginning if interested)

[5sospenguinqueen]

Sebastian watching MC walk into a wall repeatedly before realising she needs to move over slightly

Sebastian [to Ominis]: Are you sure this is the one you want?

Ominis: Absolutely

[kawareo]

A kiss to shut them up with Durgetash :)

pre-canon Durgetash, sfw 581 words

“You got us into this shit, you know,” Durge hisses, and Gortash huffs in offense.

“Me? Is it me who physically can’t stop himself from yelling praises to his blasted father while we’re in the middle of robbing a-“

“Oh shut it, if I can’t say my prayers-“

“You don’t tell me to shut up, Bhaal’s lapdog.”

As if the Bhaalspawn has any right to tell him to shut up when they had fifty Fists on their arses and it was all his fault. Gortash is the one with things to lose! His reputation, his everything! His head hurts just at the thought of how to spin it so that he was wrongfully accused of a crime, but seeing his entire outfit was still covered in blood and he is clutching his arbalast, standing two feet next to the worst serial killer in all of Baldur’s gate.

“Fists are coming,” Durge says, looking around a corner of the alley they’ve been hiding in. Just as Gortash starts to seriously consider simply shooting Durge and attempting to play it off as if he caught the murderer, Durge turns back to him, frown on the still annoyingly pretty face.

“Wonderful. If you hadn’t wasted all your higher spells on over the top lightning torture, we could’ve just teleported away, but alas, your misplaced sense for dramatic shall get us killed, oh do I not regret this failure of a partnersh-!”

Durge technically has no right to shut him up, but when he shoves Enver against a wall with an iron grip around his wrists, Enver can’t make enough of a noise to protest him when he is violently silenced with a kiss. The Bhaalspawn chokes him with his tongue, even as Enver bites in outrage, seeing that this really isn’t the time for his partner’s lusts.

And yet... The Fists run past the entrance of the alley, a few stopping, a light hitting their faces and Gortash has all but resigned for the PR nightmare that was going to follow.

“Identify yourself,” someone shouts, just as Durge grabbs Enver’s thigh and pulls it up against his hip. Durge glances over, blood gone from his face that suddenly looks different, like a wood elf that in no way resembles Enver’s exotic lover.

“Wh- Is getting a whore now illegal?” Durge hisses in a borrowed voice, just as it clicks to Enver that he is being molested for a reason other than depravity. The way Durge has trapped his wrist between the two of them forces Enver’s arbalest hard against his stomach, but it also hides it – the way they’re positioned, Durge’s long, now curly hair hides most of Enver’s own face (and the blood that covers him). Durge’s favorite cantrip, Disguise self, has apparently somehow escaped Enver’s mind in the moment of panic.

“... No, sir, we’re just- .... Doesn’t matter. Enjoy your evening.”

“Fuck off,” Gortash nearly chuckles at the fake accent Durge’s put up, and next thing they know, Fists have moved on.

“...Clever,” Enver says as they both let out a sigh of relief, and Durge keeps up his boring disguise even after he steps away.

“We can avoid them if we go through the sewers.” Durge huffs, already moving to lift the lid to the entrance. There is a cheeky smile to his eyes when they meet Enver's again. “Except if you regret this partnership too much to continue it?~”

“Hm? I never said anything, dearest.” Enver lies, and Durge laughs at him.