#something something sneak peak of something I'm working in

[summertimemusician]

Warriors/Hyrule Warriors Focused WIP Sneak Peak

“... So, you came here not as the ‘Captain of the Knights of Hyrule’, or even as ‘The Hero Who Wields the Sword of Evil's Bane’...” You started, light and raspy and something close to hollow that made Warriors ache, you both breathing heavily and bloodied and bruised, and still standing, you were beautiful, taking the place of the late hyrulean sun as you had your knee to his chest and your dagger to his neck, but he wasn’t worried, not with you  “... But rather as an ‘old friend’?”

The way you practically spat the words through clenched, bared teeth would have been mistaken by loathing by anyone else, snake venom and the shape of winter winds in your eyes and mouth in your frigid fury, if he couldn’t tell how your usually steady hands shook like icicles in early spring. Knew as well as you did that all it would take is one slip of the blade and his neck would be split open.

“You heard me the first time, didn’t you?” he spoke calmly, breathing and taking you in as if that single moment would be your last.

(And maybe it might, if he didn't do this right.)

You paused, then a snort, then a chuckle, then a laugh, something close to a yowl, or maybe a howl as you sobbed.

Your blade misses his neck by inches, stabbing into the ground below and he doesn't flinch. Doesn't allow himself to flinch, knew you'd pounce on any hint of weakness and hesitation

“Aah… I suppose it’s my loss, Link.” You laughed, it was a bitter, ugly sound. Something that made him hurt and want to hold you in his arms as he did back then, in unwanted ballroom nights where you'd both slip to vacant rooms and talk about everything and nothing. When he felt comfortable speaking, when the vitriol of his fellow men didn't burn against his skin and the loathing both from others and himself for why the war started didn't tighten around his neck like a noose. When you'd both go horseback riding while on leave and you'd smile for him with all the brilliance of a star and all the sharpness of a blade, ready to take on the world so long as you were together.

He hated seeing you like this, broken down and ruined by war and thirst for justice never given, hated how he burned away pieces of himself and didn't think to look more into the situation before he lost you. 

(And why would he have? Good soldiers follow orders after all, even if it's against their own comrades.)

He missed you so, so much.

“It never ends, does it?” You snarled out, hurt and tired and something that was all the melancholy of a trapped animal, “You hurt me, you come back, I hurt you right back, you still return. I just can't keep doing this anymore.” You bare your teeth in a smile, half mocking, half desperate, “I can't even slit your throat to shut you up properly now, pathetic, isn't it, hero?” 

He felt flayed open, who knows, maybe it would be a kindness if you did slit his throat open. He'd prefer that in the place of seeing the one person he cared for the most a hollow mirror of their old self.

(He knew Mask, Linkle, Spirit, Tetra and the Sailor would give him a good shake for it. But he couldn't help it.

It wasn't the first time he considered ways to end the war after all.)

“It doesn't have to be like this,” He offered, somewhere between the charm he sometimes had to use when interrogating the enemy and a desperate plea, “We can do better, we can make things better.” 

“You really think I can just let it go? That they will also let it go?” You say, scoffing bitterly, “Everyone has seen me fighting you today, hero, all remember what I've done. The only route waiting for me is execution if I throw it all away now.” There's conviction in your voice, but hesitance in your gaze as he dares to place a hand over yours, over the sharpened, but old blade, the one he once gave you, “I hurt you, you hurt me. There's no going back from that.” 

You don't push him away, so he presses on with cautious hope in his breast, courage rekindled. He is so, so tired, but he'll be darned if he loses you a second time, he's come this far after all, “There isn't. But we can move forward from this, there's no need to let it go, but it's not too late to try and make things better either. Not yet anyway, I know you can't trust me after everything I've done to you, and I can't fully trust you after all you've done either, but I don't know about you, but I'm done with trying to hate you. I'm tired of letting those doubts turn into hate.”

Your grip tightens, suspicious as a fox in the face of a wolf, “And what makes you think I'm done hating you?”

“You wouldn't have let me keep speaking if you were.” He bites back, he doesn't have much time left until the rest of either of your companies arrive, “Come back with me, please.”

His tone is soft and kind, and something in your expression breaks, it is the conflict between loathing and grief and longing, all clashing spears and swords and none winning.

You let the blade go, and he doesn't waste any time holding you as you choke on a sob, doesn't mind the way one of your hands curls into a claw, cutting against his wounds. He's sure he's holding you a bit too tight too after all from the way you wheeze, but you don't push him away, and that's enough.

‘Finally.’

[taintedsoul-if]

I'm slowly falling in love with my writing again. Life is short. Don't only just remember the things that bring you sadness; learn to seize the day because tomorrow is never truly guaranteed. 🫶

So please take a look at what I've been working on. I haven't started coding as yet; I heard Dashingdon is going down... well it did disappear, I think; I'll have to check. I won't make any plans because I know myself, so the switch over to CoGDemos is in the works, soon, hopefully.

And.....

The finished product would include codes and whatnot. And I'm trying to remember what Atticus usually calls the MC...

Also, thanks to everyone who slid into my ask box to notify me of this change. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get back to you all immediately. I just wanted you guys to know I saw your asks, which was greatly appreciated. ☺️

And I need to stop disappearing. 😂

[ourpleboy]

i'm the main character and you have to like me!

[chipistrate]

Begging Steel Wool to release anything about HW2 at this point cause I'm on day 5 and already running out of ideas

[lauralifeleaf]

I hope that Ibispaint just added the folder option for layers recently. Otherwise, I'm an idiot for not noticing and using it until now.

ANYWHO, I WONDER WHO THESE BELONG TO? >:)

[webism]

★★★ Thinking about the morning after a one night stand with Toji. Waking up to the soft sounds of him getting dressed and psyching himself up to sneak out. He keeps glancing back at you, though, wanting to rejoin you in bed and take you over and over and over again. He hasn't had sex that good in months. Maybe a year.

You're still sore, your legs ache from being hiked up over his shoulders for so long, pressed against your chest as he fucked you in the most nasty mating press you've ever been folded into. Your lips hurt, from the way he's catch them between his teeth and bite down. Hard. Your head hurts, from the dizzying orgasms you had, from the way you screamed his name until the sun started peaking over the horizon line.

And still, you want more.

"It's rude to leave someone sore and sad after fucking them like that," you make it known you're awake, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets slide off your body.

Toji is met with the sight of your chest, marked up with bites and hickies and what might somehow be the indentations of his nails. Still, he scoffs and starts to look for his pants just to realise they're hanging from your ceiling fan. "I'm not a cuddler," he grabs his bottoms and starts to pull them on.

"I don't want cuddles." It's a lie, you think. Cuddles with him would be nice: he's so big and warm and you fit perfectly in his hands. You wonder what his heart sounds like when he's still and calm. You wonder if he ever is still and calm. "What? You all fucked out?"

His cock twitches at the implication. You note the look on his face, the beginnings of hunger.

"Look," Toji starts, licking his lips. You're reminded of the mess you made all over his lips just hours before, how good he said you tasted. He's about to make an excuse, say he's got work or something, but Toji is nothing if not an opportunist. "Ah, fuck it."

And he's climbing back into the warmth of your bed and pressing his lips to yours in something heated and oddly... affectionate. You could close your eyes and pretend it's a good morning kiss, but you don't mind the way his cock is already hardening and pressing against your side, or the way he drags you out of bed and grumbles about how he needs a shower and if you want him to stay and give you good dick until you're full up and senseless, you'll let him make himself at home.

And you're still sore, but at least the scalding water does something to soothe the ache in your legs as Toji picks you up and drills his cock into you against the glass shower door. How good he looks with water running over his tight muscles; losing course over each scar of his and being jostled from his body with each mean snap of his hips into yours.

And he's an asshole, but not wholly horrible, so when you cum so hard on his cock that your whole body shakes, he's quick to clean you off, wrap you in a towel and take you back to bed.

Where he makes you cum one last time on his tongue before leaving <3 dw, he'll be in touch.

[tforpresz]

Finals are almost over, so I'm redoing the list yayy. I will update more as I come across them but if anyone has any recommendations comment pls!!! ALSO THANK YOU TO THE AMAZING WRITERS THAT ARE PUTTING OUT THESE WORK I LOVE Y'ALL DOWN 🫂🫶🏽

Work by @writerofautumnnights A Dance with the Devil

Works by @jazziejax ModernAU Jumpin' (SmokexBlack!OC,StackxBlack!OC) From the Same Cloth(SmokexBlack!OC,StackxBlack!OC)

Work by @hotgrlcece Fever (soon to be out,StackxReader)

Work by @strangerexee Sir,You're Too Fine (Bo ChowxReader)

Works by @livingmybestfakelife Castle Made of Sand (StackxReader, PlatonicSmokexReader) Love Rollercoaster (pt1)(StackxReader) Love Rollercoaster (pt2)(StackxReader) Waiting to Exhale(SmokexReader)

Works by @rdmasevi The One Who Asked (RemmickxReader) The Long Night (RemmickxReader) Blood&Blues (StackxReader) Bloodlines&Blues (Stack and SmokexReader)

Works by @aviawrites Love Bites (StackxOC) Wait For Me (SmokexOC) Anastasia Antoinette (StackxOC, SmokexOC)

Works by @fckwritersblock I Never Told You (Pt1,StackxBlack!Reader) What I Should've Said (PT2) Works by @spikedfearn Mercy Made Flesh Upon the Scarlet Alter Work by @uzumaki-rebellion Choose One (Smoke,Stack&OC. first three chapters posted)

Drabbles by @crystalgemcrusaders Til Death Do Us Part(Stack) They Are All Sinners(18+)(Stack) Headcanon-devils temptation:NSFW(Smoke) Work by @melancholymetropolis "Stop pretending that you hate me" (StackxReader) Work by @coldeforprez Is It The Way;2003 teaser (StackxBlack!OC)

Works by @szatears Just a lil' something (SmokexReader,Plantonic StackxReaer) ModernAuSmoke (personal fav 🤭) Three's Trouble (StackxBlack!Reader, StackxMary, MaryxBlack!Reader) Works by @spookysanta The Stack Effect 1/3 The Stack Effect 2/3

Work by @freshbakedbreadstick Advantages and Disadvantages (Smoke&StackxPOC!Reader) Work by @ughdontbeboring Let Me In (SmokexWOC!ReaderxStack)

Work by @starcrossedxwriter Still Standing pt1 (SmokexBlack!Reader) SmokexReader sneak peak

if any author wants to be removed, let me know and I'll glad do so 😁

also here are the A03 works :) A' Lil Taste by Katetypes (Sammie rec) Blood Ties by Xoslimm26 (Remmick fic) níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá by Subedarling (Remmick/reader) Where's There's Smoke, There's Fire by CreativeBuzz (Smoke/Annie, my parents fr) Dangerous by Cohrareads (Stack/Mary)

[moralityandmusings]

DP x DC: Corner of Shadows

Alfred Pennyworth has been a lot of things in his lifetime: an intelligence agent, a friend, a butler, a pseudo-father, a pseudo-grandfather, a medic, and more. But the one thing that he rarely gets a chance to be is, well... wrong.

He'd noticed things in Gotham seemed quiet lately, though he was superstitious enough not to voice that thought aloud. A quiet Gotham was a plotting Gotham, and he was wary and alert for whatever she was brewing. It was odd though, since Batman and his affiliates had managed to arrest and incarcerate the most destructive of the normal rouges in Arkham. Alfred knew that wasn't a long-term solution, but it would hold them for at least a few months before they inevitably were broken out. Alfred's sense of dread peaked on a Wednesday afternoon in late April. He had been doing his day's tasks, notably at the exact moment he was dusting in Bruce's study, when he felt a chill. Now, Alfred had been the caretaker of Wayne Manor long enough to know it's secrets: what windows were sealed shut and which could sneak open, what rooms and hallways created drafts and where the origins were, and the most likely hiding places for stashes of coffee, weapons, or even people. Bruce's study had never once incited a chill.

Alfred, though, was a professional. So, he didn't even pause in his task. He simply angled himself to reach the next set of shelves and snuck a glance around the room under the guise of reviewing his work.

He noticed it in the far corner of the room.

In his brief glance, the corner appeared darker than normal, as though the shadows had warped themselves out of their normal crevices to conceal something or someone. He considered, for a moment, hitting the panic button tucked away on the shelf behind him. However, he was not one to back down from a skirmish, nor was he incapable of handling one measly threat on his own. No need to concern the family until he knew whatever shadow creature or demon they were dealing with.

It wouldn't be the first time Alfred has faced down a demon. It also wouldn't be the first time he'd come out victorious. "I'd rather hope you were not planning to remain hidden in that corner. If so, I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you." Alfred said, keeping his back to the corner and continuing with his dusting with a purposeful air of nonchalance and passivity.

Even without a straight view of the shadowed corner, Alfred could feel the tension grip the air. "If you are here to steal from Master Bruce or one of his children, I'd kindly suggest that you exit through whatever means you entered. If you intend to harm them, I'd suggest you reconsider unless you plan to challenge me. Contrary to my family's beliefs, blood does not magically disappear out of the carpet, and as I do not know what you are, I'd hate to have to take the time to figure out how to best clean up yours." It was with this thinly veiled threat that Alfred chose to turn around and stare down the corner of the room, hopefully engaging in direct eye contact with whatever creature lurked there, or at least close proximity to it. It was as though the shadows were fighting with themselves. Almost imperceptible to the naked eye, they seemed to elongate and shrink back in rapid succession. It almost appeared that they seemed to be anxious. Then, a voice. It was akin to nails scraping down a chalkboard or the explosion of static through a radio on full volume in close quarters. It was a violent and powerful voice that hinted at fear and destruction. "What makes you so sure you would win?" The shadows seemed to tremble. Alfred smirked.

"I've dealt with many things in my life. Enough to know that demons, wraiths, creatures of the night, and even the most violent humans all have one thing in common: they can still cease." The shadows seemed to tilt. Alfred paused for a second, it almost looked like when a child or dog would tilt it's head in confusion or thought. "Cease." The broken and grating tone suggested that the reply was not a question, more like a thought for itself.

"Life does not always end in death, and death does not always extinguish existence. However, even one that is dead can still cease to exist if given the right... persuasions." Alfred lightly grinned. He knew to an outsider that it would seem vaguely threatening, even if the grin was only created out of his own amusement seeping through. The room was still. The shadows had stopped their rhythmic twisting, finally stationary. However, they were still stretched and warped beyond their usual means. The being was still present, even if it had yet to reveal itself.

It seemed, to Alfred, the creature was thinking, and he, ever the polite host, chose to let it.

After a long, quiet moment, the being spoke again. Only this time, the broken static and sharp noises ceased. Instead, the voice of a teenager, maybe even a child spoke. "What if... What would you say to a being whose existence was a constant fluxuation of life and death? Constantly living and dying and living and dying again and again, a never-ending cycle. How would you handle a being like that?" Alfred paused for a moment. He didn't let his own confusion at the entity show on his face as he realized his assumptions about this being a demon or shadowed creature here to cause harm were wrong. He had a job to do, after all. And even if this was not one of the children he was tasked with helping raise, he would not harm or threaten a child. "I'd invite the being for a cup of tea." "You'd..." There was a long pause, even longer than the standoff from earlier. It seemed Alfred's answer had truly shocked the shadows. "Why?" "Life can be incredibly isolating. Death even more so. I'd dare say, young sir, that if one was constantly walking the veil between both, regardless of if they teeter more towards one way or the other, that the being could, simply put, use an ally." The tension that had begun to stifle the room dissipated almsot immediately. As the shadows started to expand out from the corner, slowly inching their way towards where Alfred stood as though expecting him to move, to strike, Alfred stayed perfectly still and poised. There was no flinching or startling to be perceived. The shadow stretched along the floor until it stopped about half a food from the tip of his left shoe. The shadows slowly, slowly, slowly crept the rest of the way until it barely brushed the top of the well-worn leather shoes. When he didn't react, didn't move away or lash out, then the shadows quickly receded back from whence they came. Then, in the blink of an eye, in the corner sat a boy.

As far as Alfred could see, he was thin, dirty, and the staining on his clothing suggested that he was injured or had been so recently. His pitch black hair was matted and greasy, the bags under his eyes and sunken in face suggested he had been alone, likely hiding, for much too long. His gaze, however, was strong. The direct stare he landed on Alfred suggested that he was being cautious and his tensed posture indicated he would bolt if Alfred handled this incorrectly. So, Alfred leveled his own gaze back, allowing for warmth and care to flood back into his features, casting out the cold and ironed exterior he had thrown on in the face of a potential threat. "So, young sir, would you prefer a black or green tea?"

[acid-ixx]

just a sneak peak on something i'm working on <3

— masterlist !

"I NEVER ASKED TO BE BORN, BRUCE—!"

"and i never asked for you to be my father—! fuck! i'd rather anybody than you as my father! especially not right after— after you'd left me alone to pick myself up for years and chose to prioritize that stupid double life of yours than your own damn child— who would want that, huh?! who would, bruce?! who?!"

"i never wanted you, but i needed you!"

"i needed a father, i needed a fucking tether to keep me from killing myself every day, from hurting myself at any chance i could get— someone who cared, someone who gave a damn for even just a second, just someone to be there for me! but nobody—!"

"i'm a nobody in this damn house!"

"so why won't you understand? why can't you drill it into that thick skull of yours that all i needed was a fucking father in my life, all i needed was someone to hold me, to comfort me after i saw my own fucking mother die in front of me!"

"damn it—! and i thought- i thought you'd understand me, bruce! i thought that— that when alfred brought me into this damn manor, that i'd finally have someone to relate to."

"i actually thought that you could be the one to fill the empty void my mother's death left me."

"but i was wrong, i was so, so wrong..."

"and i hate myself for believing in you, dad."

[cruel-as-sin]

how long before you let me go? | logan howlett

↳ summary: riling up logan doesn't go quite how you planned...

word count: 1.3k

song: supermassive black hole | muse

pairings: bodyguard 70s!logan x rich kid fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn light plot, rough sex, overstimulation, mean!logan, hair pulling, mentions of bite marks and hickeys, spanking (so hard it leaves handprints), whiny!reader, unprotected p in v (practice safe sex everyone!), multiple orgasms, reader flirts with someone else to piss off logan (don't worry about me doing this again...), no use of y/n, pre-established safe word, doggy style, logan puts reader in a headlock, light choking accompanying said headlock, some degradation, pet names for reader (sweetheart, brat, slut), reader is a crying whiny mess and logan loves it, logan has insane stamina (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: cas finally posting something!!! (and everyone cheered!) this has been in my drafts for SOOO long and i'm so glad i finally finished it even if it’s shorter than i wanted it to be, logan is sooooooooo hot omfgggg... might turn this into a series bc i feel like this song fits them SO incredibly well

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The problem, if you could call it that, with having sex with Logan is that he Just. Keeps. Going.

Being a celebrities daughter has its perks. A rich lifestyle, for one. Lots of attention, and of course, a bodyguard with muscles that make you drool and a stern voice that leaves you dripping in… other areas.

You two have been having casual sex for about a month and a half now. He’s always been relentless, but usually takes pity on you enough to let up before he’s tired out. And, of course, you have a safeword if you ever need it. Just in case.

You knew he could keep going far longer than the average man, something about his biology letting him fill you up over and over. You didn’t question it- his business was his own, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

Now, though? You might start to complain.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

To back up a little: maybe this was your fault. Okay, it was definitely your fault, but really, could anyone blame you?

It had all started a few days ago, the last time you’d been having sex. His head was buried between your legs, his beard scratching your thighs as his tongue lapped at your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. You were whining his name, about to reach your peak, when suddenly he pulled away, shoving your bedsheets over you and kicking your clothes away as he took a step back.

You’re not sure how he knew- he must have super-hearing or something- but thank god for it, because if he’d noticed only a few seconds later, you two would’ve been interrupted by your father’s knock on the door.

It was a good thing, of course, that he stopped that night, his sharp senses and quick thinking meaning that you could just tell your father that you were changing and Logan was in the bathroom, and even if he had tried to come in, Logan had hidden the evidence well.

Even if it meant you’d spent the rest of that night pent up beyond relief, you were grateful.

Except for the fact that, and this is where the problem starts to come in, Logan had been very clear about one rule when you started sleeping with him: no touching yourself, not without his permission.

And not only does he reject your advances in the following days, claiming it’s too risky now that you almost got the two of you caught (so what if you’d insisted on sneaking away to your room with hardly any time to spare? It’s not like he didn’t agree to join you), he also tells you you’re not allowed to touch yourself, despite the way you beg and plead and give him those puppy dog eyes that you were formerly convinced worked like a magic trick every time.

So… you took matters into your own hands.

I mean, he said you couldn’t touch yourself, right? He never specified that you couldn’t have someone else do it for you.

The way you saw it, flirting with that politician’s son at a party was a win-win. Either you got some probably mediocre sex, but an orgasm was an orgasm (and the possibility of future blackmail was an added bonus), or you pissed Logan off enough that he’d come fuck you, or at least let you do it yourself.

You had been dead wrong.

Well, not entirely. Logan is fucking you. Just not quite the way you hoped.

You’re face down ass up on the bed, your face shoved into the pillows by a firm grip while his other hand digs into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. Your body aches, already littered with bite marks and handprints, and your cunt is sore. He’s given you nothing, the closest thing to foreplay you got being the hickeys claiming you and the spanking you’d been given before he’d all but thrown you onto the sheets and torn off his clothes.

Maybe that was the point when you should have caught on to what was about to happen, but you were a little too desperate to care. Now you suffer the consequences.

He pounds into you relentlessly, never giving you a break, never giving you a chance to breathe. You’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s pulled from you with his dick alone- four, maybe? And while he’s already cum once, he seems nowhere near done.

You fight to get out his name through the broken moans leaving your lips, eventually managing a strained, “Logan.”

Instead of responding with some sort of mocking tone or insult, he ignores you. Jesus, he’s mad.

“Logan,” you try again, whining his name as he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you.

“What?” He snaps, the way he smushes your head further into the pillow indicating that he doesn’t really want the answer.

When he keeps hitting that spot, your attempts at getting him to stop turn to muffled sobs as you cum once again, clenching around him.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He grumbles, groaning softly at the way your pussy tightens around his length. He grips you a little harder, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spills into you for the second time. Within moments, he’s hard again- really, how does he do that?- and you’re back to being used like a stress toy.

It's mind-numbing, a mix of pleasure and pain that has you reeling from every thrust. He keeps angling himself to hit you in the spot he knows makes you cum every single time without fail, and you curse yourself for letting him get to know your body so well as he pulls another orgasm out of you, his name falling from your lips.

When he’s cum a third time and continues to ignore your pleas, you try to squirm away from him. But your body is exhausted, and even at your full strength you’d be no match for him.

"Uh-uh." He grabs you by the hair and pulls your head back, his other hand keeping a firm grip on your hips so he can keep plowing into you. "You wanted this, you fuckin' brat. You're not goin' anywhere."

"Logan." You plead, tears starting to stream down your face. It's too much, he's everywhere, and you feel like his cock might actually fucking kills you. What a way to die.

"Nah, don't give me that shit." He yanks on your hair, and you cry out in pain. "You started this, sweetheart. You're the one who couldn't go a few goddamn days without my fuckin' attention. Be grateful you got it."

"But-"

The hand that's gripping your hips comes down on your ass, hard, the already sensitive skin stinging even more from the blow. "No buts. You get what you get, you hear me?"

When you don't answer, he spanks you again. More tears well up in your eyes, your protests reduced to incoherent babbling as his cock continues to assault you mercilessly.

"I could've tied you down, made you watch me touch myself. Or edged you until you were beggin' me for forgiveness. Maybe made you hump my boot like the slut you are." He growls, delivering another harsh smack to your ass. "I gave you what you fuckin' wanted. Deal with it."

As shameful as it is to admit, the idea of what else he could have done to you and the angry tone he speaks in is the thing that sends you tumbling over the edge once again.

He barks out a laugh, smacking your ass a few more times just to hear the way you cry for him.

"Please- Logan, I'm sorry-"

He releases your hair, and for one stupid, fleeting second you think he might be finished with you.

Instead he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into a headlock, holding you up effortlessly, his bicep flexing against your throat as he thrusts into you with a renewed vigor.

"Shut up." He snarls in your ear, letting the hand that was grabbing your hips snake down to your clit.

If you'd been overwhelmed with the pleasure before, you were fucking dying now. Drowning in it, suddenly thrown over the edge again by those perfect little circles. His grip is tight, the lack of oxygen making your head fuzzy, and you barely register the way you're drooling onto his muscles.

"That's better." He adjusts his grip to give you a little more room to breathe, letting your cries of pleasure ring throughout the room as they begin to turn to pleas for mercy once more.

"Lo-"

He doesn't let you get a word out, spanking you as he buries himself deep inside, his seed spilling into you, filling you up even more thoroughly. His bicep flexes against you, once again adjusting to choke you just a little less.

"Better get comfy, sweetheart." You can hear the sharp grin in his voice as he begins to move again, fingers returning to the sweet torture he's inflicting upon your clit. "We're gonna be here all night."

tags: @flowersforbucky @thinkinonsense @gewrgia-black @wlwloverwrites @buckybarneswife125 @sweetverine @dilfverines @wchswift @namikyento @lokirogersgirl @nymphoniah @logansdoe @robo-writing @atleastpleasetelephone @r0ttedcherubim @logaenhowlett @th3mrskory @pidgeypidge-pidge @lostinlovingrevery @rosenclaws @cenviswasteland @lubdubology @trr3rr @sacredsorceress @howlettsangel @dixie-isnt-cool @blythesarchives @loganismybodyguard

(this is the taglist for my logan howlett one-shots. if anyone would like to be added to or removed from this taglist, or would specifically prefer to only be tagged for f!, m!, or gn! reader, please let me know!)

[linearities]

ᅟ ⋆ · COGNAC ⋆ QUEEN · ⋆

ᅟ ( sneak peak . . . )

after an eventful night with boring conversations, inconvenient men and a deadbeat dad, all you want to do is get drunk and forget it all. thankfully, your dad's best friend, choi san, is always eager to help in case you get sick. now tipsy and bolder, you might as well shoot your shot.

pairing: dad's best friend!choi san x fem!reader

genre: smut with little plot, sneak peek.

warnings: SMUT! MDNI!!! age gap (san is 42, reader in her early 20s); intox kink kinda (san handfeeds her liquor); oral sex (both receiving); fingering; p in v; unprotected sex (boo gross); tipsy, but consented sex; sweet talk; praising.

a/n: heeeyyyyy 😝😝😝 hi lovelies i'm back (kinda)!! here's a sneak peek on what i've been working on. love you, stay safe! <33

taglist form.

[...]

“that's it, good girl,” he whispered as you swallowed the last drops of the golden liquor. it was the third glass, and you were starting to feel dizzy, head starting to reel.

“don’t call me that,” you mumbled back, a small pout taking your lips. you always got needy when you drank, it wasn't news for you. it was for san, though, who had never seen you in that state. tipsy, blushing and turning into mush under his sharp, but still warm gaze.

“why not, princess? i’ve always called you that, i didn't know you had a problem with it,” his voice was sincere, worried. he didn't want to push any limits, didn't want you to be uncomfortable. missing all the signs of the lust that took over your body with each drink, san was still the perfect gentleman even when you just wanted him to eat you alive.

“i’m not a girl anymore,” you slurred out an excuse, avoiding his concerned gaze.

“to me, you are,” he said back in his gentle voice, thumb brushing against your bottom lip sticking out, poking the plump flesh with his ringed finger, “my good, sweet girl.”

you felt your pussy throb. fuck. fucking hell, you needed him. needed him to do unspeakable things to you. there and then, on that expensive leather couch. you weighed the options, looking down at the way his tie hung loose around his neck, the black silk tie with the pink pinstripe pattern you had gotten him for Christmas calling your name like the Green Goblin mask. it was all too much for you, the taste of alcohol on your lips and his breath fanning over your cheeks. good god. fuck it. you had to make a move before he moved away.

with a deep breath, you gathered the courage the golden liquor poured down your throat and finally spoke up, “but i don’t want to be your little girl anymore,” your voice was firmer, even if dragged through your lips, “i’m tired of being your little girl. i’m a woman now.”

you looked up at his face through your lashes, watching the way he watched you. sharp, cat-like eyes focused on your features. you thought he didn’t, but he noticed everything. every caught breath, every stolen glance, every lick of your lips. he noticed every time you stared at his hands for too long. every time you found an excuse to touch him. every single time you pressed your thighs together when he spoke at a meeting. how you avoided meeting his gaze sometimes. even just now, he noticed the way your hands shook, the way you bit your lip, the way you still avoided his gaze. it was exhilarating, honestly. he prayed for it not to be something out of his mind, and you had just handed him the perfect confirmation on a silver platter.

“you're a woman, indeed,” he breathed out, eyes dropping to your lips before coming back to meet your gaze, “you want me to treat you as any woman, princess?” he asked, his voice alluring in your tipsy brain.

“no, i-” you interrupted him, but he took the reign back before you could finish.

“or do you want me to treat you as my woman?” his voice was calm, hands sliding from your face to your arms, then your legs, resting on your thighs.

your head reeled with his words, your skin burned with his touch, mouth now agape looking at him, not knowing what to say. "come on, sweetheart. where's that smart mouth, hm?"

[...]

heeeyyyyy (in maria reynolds voice)

[el4ise]

don't stray﹐don't ever go away!

starring ⤷ lads li’s x reader (seperate)

genre ⤷ angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

now playing.. ♫ nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after s*x

✦ them taking care of you after getting injured

𝘀𝘆𝗹𝘂𝘀

he already knew you got hurt before you could even tell him, afterall, mephisto was always at the back of your head. after a tough fight with a wanderer, you've managed to defeat it. not spotless, though.

you clutched the side of your stomach in pain as you slumped down a tree, sighing. suddenly, a static in your earpeace begins to sound. then, a voice follows.

I told you to be careful, sweetie.

you chuckle weakly. “can't help it, sy. ‘m sorry.” he lets out a low hum. you kept pressure on the wound to stop blood from pooling over.

you're doing a great job. I'm almost there.

a few minutes later, the sound of a motorcycle roars through the alley. you see sylus taking off his helmet before running to you. “let me see,” he crouched down to your level and you take off your hand, revealing a slice wound on your hip. “it’s not too deep. I can treat you.”

he carries you effortlessly on his shoulders, careful not to accidentally bump the wound. he placed you infront of him, sitting behind you and putting the helmet on you. “it’s safer if you’re caged in my arms. don’t want you to get hurt more.” that's the last thing he said before driving off.

once you had settled down in the comfort of his home, he sets you on the couch and he grabs the medkit. he sits on the side, adjusting your body so you're laying on his lap. “this’ll sting, okay kitten?” he waits until you've nodded, and dabs the cotton ball with medicine on your wound. you wince and your hand fists on his jeans. his free hand plops infront of your face. “hold it. squeeze when it hurts.” you take his hand, squeezing it occasionally as he treats your wounds.

you can't always guarantee safety— especially when working as a hunter. but you know you’ll be okay in the end. especially with sylus by your side.

𝘇𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲

you managed to make way to akso hospital even with your head spinning in circles. walking with a limp through the doors, the moment you do, tons of doctors and nurses rush to help you. you hear a distinct “call doctor zayne, now!” before your vision blurs.

you wake up to a familiar figure turned behind as you open your eyes. “..zayne?” he quickly turns around, his glasses slightly slipping on his nose bridge. “good, you're awake. don't sit up, you'll get a headache.”

he sits down on a stool beside the hospital bed. “why didn't you call me? the hospital is too far away from your mission site. your condition could've gotten wor-” you cut him off before he lectures you further. placing a hand on top of his. “my phone died. and It was a solo mission. I could only go to you.” he sighs, fixing his glasses. he grabs a pack of medicine from the cupboard and a glass of water. “here. it’ll ease the pain.” you nodded, gulping down the medicine along with water. “fortunately you passed out due to exhaustion and not the injury on your head. you got a minor concussion, but I got you. you didn’t obtain any further danger than that.” you smile. “thank you, zayne.” he rubs your palm with his thumb. “get some rest. call me if you need anything.”

zayne kept his composure, but later on you found out from the nurse he was worried sick and treated you himself instead of letting other doctors help, insisting he doesn’t trust others well enough to treat you.

he’d do anything if it meant you were safe.

© el4ise ✦ do not repost or translate

# ──── @nishikio, @jeondyy, @ruenaie

ellie’s thoughts 𐙚 this was rotting in my drafts for so long, so here’s a ‘lil something while waiting for my next work. (sneak peak > masquerade ball w/ colonel caleb ;p)

[kalims]

⊹ giving them flowers

premise. no plot we are just giving them flowers cause guys deserve some too <3

content. fluff, mini scenarios, azul turns into a silly nerd (affectionate)

featuring. jamil, sebek, riddle, azul.

note. actually accidentally posted this yesterday and got a heart attack (also an actual consistent posting schedule...?)

jamil gives you a look.

he spares a long stare at the bouquet you clutch between your hands, wearing an awfully cheeky grin that's chipping off the scold in his throat. "how many times have I told you this?" he deadpans.

but from the obvious fact that you're holding it. it's not like jamil can do anything about it.

"you don't buy flowers for yourself," he says firmly. I'm supposed to be the one getting them for you. he would like to add.

"they're a waste of madol?" you tilt your head.

he answers immediately. "no, just—" jamil's eye twitches like he's trying his hardest to keep something. "don't,"

perhaps he's being a little too blunt but it makes him upset. is he really messing up in gift giving to the extent where you have to buy something for.. yourself? and jamil is pretty sure gifts are called as such for a reason.

and that they're from, or gifted to another person.

you chuckle in your fist, but he continues to ramble; "also it's hard to care for flowers when you don't know much, i don't want you to—"

"jamil hon, my baby, the apple of my eye, the love of my life, they're for you,"

you say simply, and watch in amusement when his moments stutter before they stop to a complete freeze.

a furious wave of heat crawls up on his back but he's praying frantically. now is not the time. he seethes.

... he just tripped over his words.

jamil reluctantly accepts the flowers after you've finished laughing your ass off, and the only thing in his mind is the love.

okay maybe he should pick up a book about caring for flowers. do they even survive in the harsh conditions of scarabia?

whatever he'll make it work.

you should've expected this.

despite your arm honestly starting to tremble under the stress of holding it out for about 2 minutes straight now, you still attempt a smile—although strained. wouldn't want sebek to find it an unfriendly gesture.

even though he probably already thinks that anyways.

you don't want to color sebek in a way that shows that his only personality is being suspicious to everyone, and of course. the dearest young master he adores. (seriously though it's a little concerning, and you're kinda jealous.)

sebek stares at the bouquet in your hand with scrutinizing eyes, as if to say non-verbally: 'what is this'.

you sigh when he just stares at it like it's a bomb. "it's flowers." you deadpan.

sebek pursues his lips, looks away before looking back. "I can see that!" he says like he wasn't wearing a face that made you think you had to explain. but he just crosses his arms and falls silent with a huff. "for the young master, yes?'

he pauses. "I can atleast acknowledge your gesture, human!"

was that supposed to be good? you weren't given the chance to explain because he continues again; "though I will have to make sure that these aren't anything the young master is allergic to." he nods to himself, as though proud for being so thoughtful.

your eye twitches. you're a little surprised that he didn't even imply that it could be possibly a bomb inside to try and assassinate them.. but you notice a slight tense-ness to his demeanor.

you know cause he's huffed about 5 times in the past 1 minute, he's looked away and he's very clearly sneaking peaks at your hand.

—then he huffs to himself! then it repeats.

"I will take them to the young master at once!" he announces with his loud volume, stepping forward to grab it from you but you ultimately beat him. you're just praying he doesn't find you 10x more suspicious the moment you had wrenched it back to yourself with surprising strength you didn't know you had.

even he looked surprised!

"no, sebek.." you heave. "they're not for malleus, they're for you."

he didn't have the heart to correct the way you addressed the young master before he dutifully exploded.

he's shaking away from you with a wobbling, agape mouth. he could only open and close them dumbly, not beir capable to let a word out.

you suppose he was too speechless because he didn't even say anything when you happily pushed the bouquet to his chest like nothing happened.

for someone who's most diligent in studying, you'd think riddle would be able to catch on easily on the gist of your actions.

but he just blinks when you hold out your hand. pretty gray eyes trained on the bouquet of red roses in your grasp, then onto your face with inquisitive question apparent with the raise of his brow.

"we have plenty of roses in our gardens." he says, as though like giving him... these is the most bizarre phenomenon in his life.

it seems like he feels the need to add. "we grow them."

you smile, the sweet thing awfully tight on your face. "they're for you," you explain. a little perturbed that you need to in the first place, but it's riddle so you sorta understand?

riddle squints. "why?"

you blank. "like... like a gift, for you? you know. cause I want to."

then as if the slowness of the processing going on in his brain gradually speeds up. it's obvious he's probably realized the implications of your little gift from the jolt, then widened eyes who stare in disbelief.

riddle gulps. "for, me?" he asks stupidly.

your raised brows say yes.

it's almost hilarious when he accepts them gratefully and stares at them like you just sprouted a literal white rose from the ground, wrapped it in some fancy plastic, and then handed it to him with a smile.

silence ensues again. riddle notices, screeches in his head to do something about it except he can't, cause his mind seems to be broken right now and he can't exert any words but a stammer.

and he'd really like to relearn how to speak because you're fidgeting on the spot, clearly nervous by his silence.

"sorry," you chuckle. "um.. it's just red roses, not white, or blue, or pink—"

"no!" he blurts out far too quickly. hands stretched out in the air a little as though reaching out to stop you but then stiffly staying by his side. riddle clears his throat. "I mean... this is... very important to me."

you look like you don't really believe him cause he was going off about roses in his dorm before.

he flushes, away from your gaze. "because its from you."

you can barely see azul.

or gauge out his reaction if it's supposed to be good or bad, because you can barely even see his eyes from all the sudden sheen of white over it. did all the smoke in the room just gravitate over his glasses conveniently or something?

you can spot the joints in his fingers twitching but oddly enough he remains stiff in front of you. uncharacteristically silent, which wouldn't really lead to good things.

"hello?" with your free hand, devoid of any flowers with the power of freezing a person. you wave it in front of his face which seems to have done a pretty good job with snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

the glasses slip down the bridge of his nose but he fixes them at record speed. admittedly with clammy fingers.

azul coughs. "thank you very much." he clutches them tighter, pursuing his lips.

"I know octavinelle is not the best place for warmer places," he starts and a flash of confusion on your face is something he misses. "but I will manage it and find an accommodation for these, around 34 or 35 degrees."

your brows furrow. what.

"hmm yes... a nice vase, I'll use the most pure water there is." he rants. "then I'll fill it up with two thirds of its container and make sure it lives healthy."

that's... concerning.

"I'll have jade clean it regularly." he says and you're honestly more scared for the flowers. "I cannot trust floyd either so I'll trim it by two centimeters at the right angle occasionally when it dries."

he says all that, with a pink face.

you awkwardly stand there taking in azuls apparent plans on how to ensure the lifespan of your 'thoughtful' gift will be extended as far as he can help in to commerce your honor.

[botmilf]

So I'm working on a SMALL SIMPLE erotic Transformers x Human visual novel game

The gist of it is based on an art series I've been making and posting on my Patreon called The Aphrodite Collection.

The Aphrodite Collection is based on an au I came up with for the Patreon. All the pieces take place in a fancy brothel on Cybertron (ethically run, WITH the enthusiastic consent of all the workers involved uwu), where Cybertronians can indulge their curiosities about humans.

The brothel is called Aphrodite's.

AND it's owned by the Botmommy herself, Wyatt!

What's the aesthetic of the brothel, you might ask?

You can explore that HERE!

The game will allow you to pick any Transformer you'd like as your client(s) and indulge their erotic fantasies uwu.

Like I said, keeping the goal to be a very small project for the time being--something I can finish in like a month, with updates later in the future depending on how popular it gets and how much funding my patreon gets--which would allow me to spend more time on it.

Patrons in the 5$ and up tiers will get access to betas of the game and be able to give feedback as I develop it, etc.

Here's some of the base ideas that I'm already working on implementing first:

Ratchet (TFP version) is basically the brothel's in-house obgyn lol. But you can also fuck him! Knockout is the stylist. You can bang him too lol. Pretty much all the staff NPCs, including Wyatt, will be bangable. Idk man, times are tough and I think we all deserve something nice I guess. The finished version will be downloadable for everyone with a 'pay what you want' donation to avoid any legal trouble lmao. But if you'd like to support the project and get sneak peaks during development, you can throw $5 a month my way via the PATREON.

[woso-dreamzzz]

New Girlfriend III

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Teen!Reader

Summary: You make a game

When Lucy cracks open your door, you're as you always are.

You're hunched over your computer, clicking around some game level aimlessly with your tongue sticking out in concentration.

Your mice, like they always are when you're in the room, are running riot in their pen.

Outside of their cage and on the floor, you've set up a little pen for them to roam around and play in.

Lara and Zelda are wrestling like always as Clementine tries to work through the enrichment puzzle full of food. Ezio is asleep, flopped over on your shoulder as you study whatever new game you've found.

"You ready for dinner?"

Now that it's gotten colder, you've managed to get even moodier than before and even more of a shut in.

"One sec," You say. You click around the game level a bit more before pulling up a separate tab to type a long string of something Lucy can't even hope to understand. "Alright, I'm done. What's up?"

Lucy rolls her eyes fondly. "Dinner. Now. Ona cooked."

You push your chair out from your desk and stretch, your back cracking from the long hours you've spent hunched over.

You put the mice back into the cage, each of them getting a quick snuggle and kiss before you bolt it shut.

"Is it good food?" You ask as you go down the stairs.

"It's better than your mum makes!" Ona calls out and you grin.

"Yeah, but anything's better than Mum's cooking!"

Lucy grumbles, shaking her head. "One nice meal is all I ask. One meal where I don't get horrifically bullied!"

"We don't bully you," You say," It's character building!"

You and Ona laugh and Lucy just rolls her eyes. Sometimes, you think she would prefer if it went back to what it was like when you were first adapting to Ona.

"Oh," She says," I sent you those audio files you wanted."

"Thanks."

Lucy frowns. "She's been making you do those too?"

"Yeah, it's for a school project, right?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. It's for programming."

"I know I shouldn't have let you sign up for that," She says," It's all you ever do. I think you're losing sleep over it."

"You'll like it," You declare," What I'm working on. I promise."

"I'm sure that I will but it doesn't mean I think you're sleeping well. Put it down for once, that's all I'm saying."

You roll your eyes.

Lucy's always like that about your programming. Sometimes she lays asleep at gone three in the morning and can still hear you typing away on your computer for hours on end.

You return to your room after dinner ends and briefly come out to show Ona what you're working on while also denying Lucy the same opportunity.

"You've love it," Ona assures her at training the next day.

"Love what?" Keira asks," Oh, y/n's game? Yeah, you'll love it, Luce."

"Am I the only one that hasn't seen it?!" She demands, glancing around the room at people who are trying to not make eye contact with her. "Seriously? Raise your hand if you've seen it?"

Slowly, everyone raises their hand.

"This is so unfair!"

When you first got given the project, Lucy had been the first person to be clued into your plans. You showed her all your design sketches and all your ideas as you jumped between them.

At one point, one of your bedroom walls had been covered in concept designs and you would stand in front of it and point out certain aspects you liked and things you didn't think were quite perfect yet.

Lucu had been integral to your thought process and then all of a sudden she was shut out. You'd ask her to record voice lines or demonstrate doing something but you'd never explain why or what it was for.

You all but unplugged your computer when she came in unexpectedly and tried to get a sneak peak.

"Alright," Lucy says when she gets home to see you and Ona giggling on the sofa together," I've had enough. Show me your project."

You sit upright immediately, eyes wide.

"No-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. I've had enough of the secrets."

She's serious. You can tell by the clench in her jaw and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

Lucy's stubborn but you inherited from her so you're stubborn too.

Your cross your arms in the same way as you stand. "No! It's not finished! You can see it when you're finished!"

"Hey," Ona intervenes before the argument can truly get heated. Her hand rests on your shoulder. "It's okay. Just show her."

"I can't! It's not ready!"

"Come on," Ona says," Show her."

You glance at your Mum, who is staring at you with that same stern look and crossed arms as the one that she came in with.

"Fine. Give me a sec."

Lucy sits on the sofa as Ona hooks up a laptop to the tv.

You come back in with a disc and nervously put it into the dvd slot.

Lucy doesn't know what to say when the opening credits appear.

'Lucy Bronze: The Game' with a little pixel version of her holding the Champion's League trophy up on her head.

"We were meant to make a game about a hero," You say," And you're my hero."

[gotham-daydreams]

Not [ ]

A platonic Yandere Batfam series.

(I need a better name for this series-)

[General Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, No one is having a good time, Angst, Usual Yandere Tendencies]

Chapters

Chapter 1 (Not Tonight)

Chapter 2 (Not Here)

Chapter 3 (Not Now) [1] [2] [Teaser/Sneak Peak] [Teaser 2]

Chapter 4 (in the works...)

Chapter 5 (coming soon)

Chapter 6 (coming... eventually)

Asks

How do Damian, Babs, and Steph become Yandere for the reader (with more details on Tim)

Further Reiterating on How They Turn

How did the Reader Get Adopted

(Before Chap. 3) How Will the BatFam Find the Reader, How Would The Reader Do In One-On-One Fights With the BatFam, and How Would A Kidnapping Go (a non-canon one)

Damian is the Most Forgivable

What Would Happen if the Reader Wasn't In Gotham?

Is it Possible for a Villian to Become Obsessed with the Reader Like the Batfam

(Before Chap. 3) Discussion on How Y/n Feels

Ruining the Batfam's Reputation By Shitting On Them in an Interview with Louis Lane

(Winning Over Louis Means That Clark Kent's Seal of Approval is Removed)

The Reader and Batfam Sitting Down to Talk About Their Issues, but Harley Quinn is Their Therapist

Alfred is Kind Of the Mastermind

(He's just too good.)

(How far has he gone.)

(Why didn't he do anything before the reader left.)

([Generally] What would happen if the Reader saw/referred to Alfred as their Dad/something similar to that.)

What is Reader's Age

(Before Chap. 4) Would the Roomate Help the Reader?

Would The Roomate Help + Do They Know Batfam's Identities?

Some Members of the Batfam Being Able to Play Instruments with the Reader

(Before Chap. 4) Batfam Trying to Manipulate Reader Into Coming Back Home On Their Own

What if Reader wasn't a Overachiever

What Would Happen if Reader Snapped, and the Batfam Found Out About Their Life Much Sooner

(Before Chap. 4) How Resistant Would Reader Be to Getting Kidnapped, and Would They Try to Escape

How Would the Batfam React to Reader Going Insane

How Would the Batfam React if the Reader Escaped and Went Off the Radar for a Few Weeks, and Would They Actually Be Able to Achieve This?

If the Reader Tried to Give Being a Vigilante a Try, but Their First Attempt Goes Wrong

How Would the Batfam Celebrate the Reader's Birthday When They're Kidnapped

Has the Reader Made a Song for Batman

What if Someone Else Confronted the Reader?

What if Alfred went instead of Dick?

Does the Batfam turn purely because of their guilt?

Fanart

Silly Doodles

Alfred: ah, surely my plan couldn't have gone horribly wrong. Oh, Master Dick? Are you okay? You look dreadful. Dick:

Batfam: *Scheming* Reader: Alfred, come pick me up I'm scared-