#there won't be a place for them much longer

[enchantress-arc]

It's really fun to torture someone with pleasure without giving them any warning. To snap my fingers and put them into heat, see that look in their eyes as they feel the arousal growing between their thighs, as their conscious mind finally realizes what's happening, what they're going to be reduced to for the rest of the day. Seeing them whine and begin to beg with those adorable little eyes of theirs, and leaning in to oblige, kissing them, rubbing the pleasure into them even further. Teasing them, making their heat even stronger, and taking out my girlcock as if to please them, to satiate their heat, right before snapping again and locking them in place. They can no longer move, at least not on their own, not without being ordered to, so I'll push them down onto their back. I'll tease them a little more, rubbing their parts with my hand, snapping again and ordering them to spread their legs, watching their body obey. Putting my girlcock right next to their hole, listening to those sharp little breaths they take when they feel it just about to enter, and their whining when it passes by. Kissing them on the neck, teasing, making their heat, their need to be used become more unbearable with every passing second. Finally putting my girlcock in, just a tiny bit, only to take it out almost immediately and put a vibrator inside instead. Telling them they aren't allowed to cum without permission. Thrusting it in and out manually for a bit before turning it on, forcing it in as deep as it can go, and just leaving them there, helplessly locked in place for an hour or two. Occasionally reaching over to tease them a bit more, biting, licking, sucking, applying pressure to the vibrator, making out with them, shoving my tits in their mouth, and sometimes acting as if I'm going to fuck them before pulling away yet again. Eventually I'll order them to place their head between my thighs and worship. Between the conditioning forcing their body to obey and all of the pent up pleasure they're feeling, they'll be desperate for any form of release, desperate to obey, they'll do anything I order them to with the utmost passion. Feeling them worship my thighs and my girlcock while they pathetically grind on my calf, hoping for a release that simply won't come. Eventually I'll tell them to stop, I'll reach down and pull the vibrator out of them, tell them how wonderfully obedient they've been. I'll order them to cum as soon as I cum inside of them. And then I'll allow them to position themselves however they'd like to be fucked. Just using them like the pathetic, slutty little fucktoy they are. And every now and then, when I feel close, I'll stop for a moment just to make them wait a little longer. Stopping over and over just to make sure they're not allowed to cum. And when I feel satisfied, like I've enjoyed myself enough, I'll simply pull out, and finish outside of them, even after all of that effort they put in. Just to hear them whimper and whine, just to enjoy seeing how pent up they'll be. I'll have them rest their head on my chest, allowed to thrust against my legs as much as they want, but still disallow them from feeling release. And while they're laying there, their mind barely functioning, just an adorable, thoughtless pile of pleasure and desperate submission, I'll order them and thank their mistress for denying them. And they'll obey, because they are nothing more than a good thrall, and good thralls obey their mistress.

[prettypinkporkchop]

❤️❤️❤️ Clumsy reader who since childhood was always accident prone always manages to get cuts and bruises but she’s used to it so she just laughs them off but her imprint embry always gets a small heart attack when she’s hurt that he even tells the pack and imprints to watch her when he’s not around cause she’s pregnant

We love a protective man

You stub your toe on the table at Billy's house. You hiss and lean forward, your baby bump above the table.

"Hey.." Embry says, grabbing your waist.

You look back and smile at him. "No, baby. I'm okay!" You giggle.

"I've got to baby proof the house for you, not the baby." Jacob jokes, setting down your plate of food.

"Not a bad idea." Embry agrees. He sits you down on the chair next to Quil.

Quil eyes you and then look up at your face. "May I feel?" He smiles.

Quil is so excited to be an uncle to Embry's baby. Embry had always been his bestest friend, same with Jake.

You nod your head, smiling at him. He lights up like a kid and gently places his hand on your stomach. He looks over at Embry, who has his arms crossed with an adorable smile.

"He's kicking." Quil gushes.

"He sure is an active baby." Embry smirks.

-----

You step backward, looking at the sign Emily hung up in the living room. You observe its placement. You slightly tilt your head, doing so, you simply lose balance, and Paul grabs your arms.

"Jesus Christ, y/n. Embry will kill me if I don't watch your every move." He chuckles.

You stand straight and look at him laughing. "I'm not that bad. I'll be alright!"

"No, you won't be. Thanks, Paul." Embry walks inside from helping Sam outside. He wraps his arm around your waist and kisses the top of your head.

"Come on. Let's go get y/n some food." Emily ushers you all at the table.

Everyone else walks inside. Sam grabs Emily and kisses her cheek.

"Guys, please. If you're around her," Embry points at you, "watch her. When I'm not beside her, please. Pregnant and clumsy don't mix." He says.

Jared grabs Embrys shoulders from behind him. "Don't worry, brother. We've got this shit." He laughs, patting his back and then sitting down.

"Guys! I'm okay! Don't be so dramatic." You roll your eyes.

"Y/n, no offense, but even I'm scared." Kim says from the doorway.

Emily places a plate of food in front of you, and you start eating.

----

You try to stand up out of your chair at the bonfire to grab some hotdogs.

Embry is quick to stand up before you and grab onto you. "Baby girl, wait for me to get you." He whispers in your ear.

You softly pat his arm away. "I've got this, Em." You giggle.

"Don't care. Where you headed?" He says with assertiveness.

"Table. I want a hotdog." You look at his face. He smiles down at you. He leans down to peck your lips.

"I'll roast the weenie for you. You sit here. Don't move." He helps you back into the chair.

Embry comes back with a stick and a weenie, placing it in the fire.

"Aye, can you roast one for me?" Paul asks.

Embry flips him off. You giggle and cover your mouth.

"I want princess treatment sometimes." Paul turns you with a smile.

"How much longer until the baby boy is here?" Rachel asks, looking over Paul.

You sigh and rub your stomach. "Any freaking minute now!"

"Yeah, that's why the clumsy girl stays still." Embry scoffs.

He sits next to you after making your hotdog. He kisses your cheek and then whispers in your ear. "You're mine to protect. I love you."

This sends butterflies in your stomach. "I love you, too."

[dollfacefantasy]

I... Absolutely adorable Scott Summers with my entire heart. I need to ask you since I'm a fan of your other work. How do you think he'd deal with a bratty reader/team member?

mdni (18+); cw: smut, brat taming, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation

hmmmm... so i think when you start dating scott, the first time you get bratty he's confused. like he does not understand that you're trying to provoke a reaction out of him and get freaky. so instead he tries being amicable and working towards a solution.

but you don't seem to want it. there's only so much he can take. after a few too many rolled eyes and stamped feet, he snaps. he grabs one of the arms crossed over your chest, making you stand normally before looking at you and simply saying "enough."

it's just one word, but he says it in the same tone he uses when he gets frustrated on missions. he speaks in a way that the intensity of his gaze stings you from behind the red lenses of his sunglasses.

after that, your demeanor shifts. no longer are you prodding at him. rather, you're pouty. and that's when he starts to understand. he realizes you're not upset about whatever you got snippy about. you're just frustrated in general and want to be put in your place.

and from then on, scott really steps into the role of taming you.

when you brat out, he doesn't play around and engage with you. while i think someone like logan would be more direct with punishments, scott can play the long game. he has the patience, and he uses it.

instead of giving you what you want, and carting you off to your room, scott will just ignore you. he'll tell you that the two of you can discuss how you're feeling when you can do so like a mature adult. at first that only gets you more upset, but before long, your lip is wobbling and your eyes are glossy. you're coming to him, holding his arm and nuzzling his bicep.

"scott, i'm sorry," you whimper as the two of you walk back to your room.

he glances down at your pleading eyes and tries not to smirk. you acted so tough, but you're so easy to break down.

"are you now?" he asks monotonously.

you nod quickly, eager to prove to him that you can behave. the two of you go into your shared room where he takes a seat on the bed and you stand in front of him.

"have anything to say for yourself then?" he asks.

"i'm really sorry, sir," you say, throwing on the title for some extra points. you step closer to stop between his thighs. "'m sorry for giving attitude and calling you a dick."

he chuckles and tilts your chin up. "yeah. that wasn't very nice was it, baby?" he teases.

you shake your head, eyes still cast down.

"you're lucky i can be so forgiving then, aren't you?" he says.

and again, you nod.

once you've acquiesced and admitted your wrongdoings, that's when he moves into the part of the punishment you craved all along. it's the part where he spreads you out on the bed and takes residence between your thighs, overstimulating you to tears with his fingers, tongue, or cock. whatever he feels like.

your legs wrap around his head while your back arches off the mattress. you part your lips in a silent scream as your third release tears through you. your hips buck wildly, but he does his best to hold them in place. he keeps you nice and steady because through all of this, he never stops sucking on your poor, puffy little clit.

you whine and squirm, starting to push at his head to find some reprieve, but he won't let up. tears roll down your temples while spit collects around wet sobs.

"scott..." you choke out as your legs quake violently, "can't... can't do it... too much."

"it's not too much," he chides once he pulls himself off your cunt. he licks a broad stripe over the sticky expanse before pumping his fingers into your dripping entrance.

more tears pour from your eyes as another cry erupts from your mouth. you nod wildly. "yes it is. it's- it's- oh my fucking god," you sob.

"it's what? it's what you wanted?" he taunts, "you were begging for attention so badly earlier. i thought you'd enjoy yourself."

you part your lips to respond, but only a squeak comes out. your hips roll as he curls his fingers with in and brings you to a fourth peak.

your words become babbled and drool leaks from your mouth in the haze. he grins at your fucked out state and keeps sliding his fingers back and forth.

"that's right. you don't need words, sweetheart. you never use them anyways. you always jump right ahead to having an attitude," he mocks.

all you can mumble in response is his name on repeat. your eyes screw shut. a few seconds later, you finally get a small break. it only last a few seconds though because you come to realize the brief pause in his actions was only so he could position himself with his cock at your entrance.

"it's ok though. we'll get all those big feelings worked out so you can go back to being a good girl for me again," he says.

it's the last thing you hear before he slides in and everything in your world explodes into white hot pleasure.

[agena87]

I won't post the rest of the family because 1/ I'm too tired right now, and 2/ Jeb's lookbook is super boring since it's just grey t-shirts/sweatshirts & jeans/overalls for nearly all outfits.

But look at my Puppy (with a new haircut! Longer hair Wolfie is baaaaack!) 💛💛💛

And I think it's safe to say that @saruin & @ts4eve are Wolfie's favourite creators, with how many of their clothes/accessories he wears 😋(and despite not wearing as much as he did when he was younger, @aniraklova's clothes have a special place in his heart, too).

And I believe it was @adelarsims who was sad about not seeing enough men in long dresses, so, I hope the few outfits where Wolfie wears one help a bit (even if, technically, Puppy's enby, not male).

(also, 5 outfits per category is not enough; I want 10 at least. Or better: not limits)(if I could give them as many as I want, I think Wolfie and Lory would have at least 30 everyday outfits each)(and Lory would have as many sleep outfits 'cause that girl looooooove her lingerie)

[someverygaymoth]

So, so, so— afterdeath to destructivedeath pipeline, yeah?

With little teensy Goth.

Reaper meeting Error and romancing him and all of this, Error slowly beginning to love him, because he loves Error despite the fact that he's not Geno anymore, but moreso, he starts to feel guilty for lying to him. He feels guilty for knowing Reaper's coffee order, his favorite snacks, remembering them all after all this time, guilty for having spent a lifetime with him, that he simply chose to ignore.

He sits Reaper down and talks to him about it, lost of crying, lots of careful kissing, lots of promises and boundaries laid out.

It only seems right to Introduce Error to Goth, now. But, Error is so nervous. So scared Goth won't forgive him for disappearing, even If he couldn't help it. (Goth is like 6 or 7 now) Reaper talks away all his fears, reassuring him and comforting him, and they come up with an idea...

Reaper: hey kid...

Goth: dad's home!!!

R, scooping him up in a big hug: hey dove!! Hi! Sorry, work was long today... And I had to go and get someone...

G, curiously: get someone? Who?

R: in a second, dove.

He laughs, before thanking Blue for looking after Goth today. Reaper walks over to the couch and sits Goth down.

R: you know how I met someone special, a little while ago?

G: yeah, you met somebody you love!

R: yeah, yeah I did. Just like I met your Papa, and loved him.

G: oh.

R: you okay?

G: you don't like to talk about Papa.

R: no, no, I just... Miss him sometimes. And that's not a bad thing. People, they come and go. And sometimes they come back. Sometimes they don't. But, if they come back... Things are always different.

G: why?

R: well, people, they change. And grow. And sometimes, to change and grow, you have to be away from people. Even some people you really love.

G: like... How Papa went away?

R: yeah, like how Papa went away...

G: ...

R: Goth, do you know how caterpillars become butterflies?

G: oh, yes, they... Make a cocoon, and go in it, and then they become a butterfly!

R: that's right! But, it takes time for caterpillars to become butterflies.

G: how long?

R: weeks, sometimes.

G: gasp that's forever!

R: snickering yeah, well, people are just like butterflies. But going into their cocoon to grow... And change... It takes even longer. It takes years, sometimes.

G: years? But... That's so long... Won't they get sad?

R, tearful: they get very sad sometimes, yes. But we need to be sad to grow, sometimes. Your Papa, he went away because he needed that. And he was sad without you, and me, and the people he loved very very much. But, that's what he needed to grow and change.

G: he... He did? So... He became a butterfly?

R: yeah, he's... Very different now. He doesn't look the same. Just like a caterpillar doesn't look like a butterfly. And he doesn't act the same, just like Caterpillars don't fly and butterflies do, and his name is different, just like a caterpillar is called a Butterfly when it comes out of its cocoon. But one thing stays the same, do you know what that is?

Goth shakes his head, frowning

R: he is still your papa. And your papa loves you, more than anything in the whole multiverse.

G: do you promise?

R: it's not my place to promise.

G: oh...

R: do you, want to see him?

G, looking nervous: ... Are you sure...?

R: sure about what, dove?

G: that... Papa still loves me.

R: I'm never been more sure of anything, bud...

G: I... Want to see him.

R: Error, you can come in.

The door opens, and Error hesitantly steps through. He looks to Reaper first, and when his eyes fall to their little souling, tears come to his sockets.

Error: Hey, dove.

G: Papa?

E, walking over: yeah...

G: you're... Like a butterfly now?

E: yup, just like a butterfly.

G: do you have wings like dad now?

E, snickering and sniffling: no, not quite... I look pretty different though.

G: your skull is all better!

E, outright crying now: yeah, it is.

G: do you feel better now?

E, sitting down on the coffee table: I feel all better now.

G: ... Then... Why are you crying?

E: because I missed you... And I missed your dad, and... I'm happy I'm home.

G: are... Are you going to leave again?

E: no, I'm never going to leave you again.

G: do you promise?

E: cross my soul, I'm not leaving you again. I promise, little dove.

Error holds out his pinkie in a gentle offering, smiling a little.

G: your hands are colorful!

They take the offered pinkie and the promise is sealed.

E: yeah, they are.

G: ... Can I have a hug?

E: yeah... Yeah, always.

[buggyswritingcorner]

OMG just found you through your NSFW-alphabet for Aemond, could you please please do one for his brother as well?

heyy... heyyy.. uh i know this is.. two years.. late, im sorryyyy, i had sooo much stuff happen to me tho and i feel like now im finally ready to start writing again! thank you for this request! check out my

MASTERLIST

NSFW Aegon Targaryen

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Yees girl go give us ⋆✩nothing⋆✩, hahahah no it really depends on what your relationship with him is, i can't see him being overly loving and patient with someone who's a fleeting moment in his life, if he is in love with you tho (whether or not he realises it) he will do his utmost best to shower you with love, even after a hate fuck this puppy couldn't possibly with good consience let you go without a bit of love

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he's quite insecure (shocking) so at first he had basically nothing, no part of him was entirely without flaw and he hated it, being with you and seeing how you look at him changed his mind and now he finds his shoulders and torso quite attractive (especially with your feet over his shoulders)

what he likes most on you differs every day, one day it's your eyes, the next your ass, he loves and longs for all of you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this dirty bitch, anywhere... anywhere

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely caught alicent and crispin doing it at least once.. did he enjoy it? debatable

he has many secrets, most of them dirty.. so yeah, he's probably even seen you naked many times before you courted officially, he has his ways..

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's always been very well versed in the art of sex, he fears nothing and is up to experiencing everything, so good luck with suprinsing him with something new.. if you do though, well just be prepared to not leave your room for some time, he loves new experiences

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

you on top, no arguments, on part because he's a little lazy, but also because he can see all of you that way, every curve, every sweet drip he'd like to lick up

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's a gooof, a silly boyy, cannot stay serious for the life of him bless this poor man he tried once and you laughed at him because he looked constipated, if you really want him serious tho.. that takes a lot of teasing the entire day, then at night he takes what he was promised in those foxy smirks flashed his wayy all day

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

no grooming, unless you ask for it, like really plead for it, i think he just also forgets and obviously on you he doesn't mind any hair, on the contrary i think it makes him more turned on because it feels 'animalistic' and raw

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be romantic, he definitely uses his puppy eyes to his advantage and makes you take care of him haha

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he knows he looks good and won't hesitate to show you too, so you walking into your shared chambers while he's lost in himself is quite common, and then he just flashes you a coy smirk and get louder the longer you ignore him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

i fear... i may have to say this man has a mommy kink, or just a woman kink in general lol, he definitely searches for validation where he didn't recieve it, so you being able to praise him and make him feel loved is a biig YES

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Unlike his clean brother, this man is dirty as fuck and is down to do it just about anywhere. Is a never ending list really. He looks forward to taking you into the darkest alleyways of King´s Landing or underneath the stone table in the Sept of Baelor.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

once again, just you, there is nothing more ravishing than you in a pretty dress or tunic and a pair of pants, the lower the cut of the hem the better, he loves when you swoosh your hair around him, likes the wilder side of you more than the proper side

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

... i really tried to come up with something but i dunno, i feel like hes down for anything??

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a master in giving, terrible at recieving, he wriggles and whines and tugs on your hair, wear a whole set of armor if you dont want scratch marks everywhere!! also be carefull this one bites

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he's sloppy mostly, but at times when he sobers up in a moment of clarity he can rock your fuckin world, you'll be climbing the walls im tellin you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

yes,yes,yes - aegon on quickies, he loves it, anywhere anytime, he'll srsly take you in an alleyway if you let him, so be carefull

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

once again i feel like he'd risk anything for that rush of adrenaline that he just longs for, he feels so bored and dead all the time that he wants to experience it all with you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

if he's drinking? barely one, may even fall asleep on you. if he's sober? get ready for a ride till the sunrise, he takes his time and just kissing him may feel like only minutes passed when in reality you've been there for hours

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i mean, you saw the damn dildo, thats all imma say, he a freak

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he's such a little tease, but not in the way most would expect, he's not a very dominant boy, so he'll more likely tease you to make you jealous or to make you look at his neck and chest when his tunic get mysteriously untied in the wind

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

looud, get your chambers soundproofed please, for the sake of the children, he's grunting, moaning, whining, cursing and all in between, the more orgasms you give him the higher his voice goes in octaves, its a fun game to see how high the bird will sing

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

i think he likes getting spanked, something makes me believe he'd be begging for that sharp sting, be it his face, cock or ass, he'll take anything you'll give

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

average sized, pretty boy cock what can i say, curved with a very pink flush

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he's a whore, but a whore with feelings, he's down to do it most of the time but sometimes you'll have to console the poor boy because he feels like he's too demanding, just make sure you kiss him and he's forgetting all about those pesky insecurities

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after you're done, he's not even letting you get up to use the restroom, he grabs you and just won't let go until he's sound asleep, you make him feel safe and loved

Hope you enjoyed!!

masterlist

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[emiliosandozsequence]

have Barely read this week bc of all the fucking doctor's appointments i've had to go to rip

[chaddicus]

see the longer I play with my understanding of my transmasc experience and dysphoria, the more I grapple with the conflict between mocking fragile masculinity for refusing to allow the use of 'feminine' things vs knowing more and more keenly how much dysphoria I would and do get whenever someone associates something I do or use or wear with femininity. and no amount of people insisting that using "feminine" things doesn't invalidate someone's gender, man or otherwise, seems to have any impact on that dysphoria

we do need to untangle cultural perceptions of masculine vs feminine and respect for a person's gender, manhood in particular in this discussion, but I almost feel like knowing that means it's my responsibility to refuse to engage with those ideas for my own gender — and the problem is that knowing this is not the common understanding means knowing that other people *will* associate my use of feminine things as some sort of contradiction with any masculinity I may wish to express or identify with, and no amount of understanding the concepts and holding the principles can erase the revulsion and pain and fear I feel at the thought of people associating me with some concept of womanhood that I adamantly *do not experience or identify with.* fuck.

[xcziel]

wow they decided to copy yoongi almost exactly: concert lovefest for army and then dip

[rxkuyo]

the urge to tell this woman that she's fucking dumb in the pettiest most angry way vs. me having to calm myself down and be as friendly about pointing out things she might want to reconsider because I am trying to help this horse and telling her off in any way will just result in her shutting down and not considering my (very valid) points at all

[joelsgoldrush]

“GIVE ME ALL OF THAT ULTRAVIOLENCE” | 1.9k

logan howlett x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ implied age gap, dirty talk, kind of inexperienced reader, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, dom!logan, a tiny bit of degradation (yeah i'm a whore we already knew that), he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[chuluoyi]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

[kahin]

DO NOT SCROLL, URGENT CAMPAIGN.

[pt: Do not scroll, urgent campaign.]

I am making this post to clear up some confusion regarding Momen's campaign that may have prevented people from donating because it made them sceptical about its legitimacy. This confusion is most likely caused by the failures of machine translation.

Momen is attempting to evacuate ten family members, with the cost of evacuation for each being €7,000. So far, the amount raised is only enough for two. The family members are:

Father (suffers from hypertension, heart disease, and diabetes)

Mother (suffers from hypertension)

Three brothers

Two sisters

Ahmed's (the eldest brother) children, Malak (newborn) and Muhammad (who has Polio)

Reham's (eldest sister) newborn, Amir

Their newborn babies are suffering from a number of respiratory issues. One of the younger members of his family contracted Hep C due to water contamination (and I apologise for spreading misinformation, as I truly did think it was his child, but it isn't). His hopes are to get his family evacuated so they can all receive urgent medical attention.

Momen is only 24 years old. He is bearing an unimaginable weight on his shoulders. He's essentially been begging for several months now since the campaign's creation to an uncountable number of strangers who have bared little to no heed to his campaign. His campaign has struggled to receive any traction. His blogs have been banned and suspended, over and over and over again. And honestly? Even with all this information in mind, I still don't know what it takes to get you people to donate.

Is it the lack of money? Well, that's not it! You people help raise thousands for AO3 yearly. Is it that you think he's a scammer? He's been vetted as number 125 on that spreadsheet, so that's probably not it unless you think Palestinians are scammers by default. Why are you letting yourself become desensitised to their pain? Why does every facet of their misery need to be posted for you to care, and even still you won't?

The campaign is behind on its short term goal. Severely behind, only €854/3724. The deadline is the end of tomorrow, and if we don't reach it then God help us, because then it will take even longer to fill the gap for the funds for each member's evacuation. Every campaign is urgent. Even the ones that don't list it as such. They're undergoing bombing, they're forced to evacuate from place to place while ill and terrified. You think they want to live another minute of this? Another day?

Every amount helps. I feel like a broken record saying this. Just donate. However, you much you can. 1, 20, 5, if that's the most you can. Share as much as you can.

[pt: Every amount helps. I feel like a broken record saying this. Just donate. However, you much you can. 1, 20, 5, if that's the most you can. Share as much as you can.]

Do not tag as ANYTHING if you're reblogging this post. No tags whatsoever. No "long post", or any organisational tags.

blog tags under the cut.

@timetravellingkitty @meaganfoster @briarhips @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptochecca

@aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@revindicatedbyhistory @t4tvampireisms @appsa @anneemay @dailyjermasparkle

@clankit @hogwings @tealgoat @daydreams-42 @clawpatrol

@rainbowsnowflake @saint-oleander @jackironsides @f4rfields @cassandragemini

@nvoembers @ardl @someguywithaname-blog @giritina @arcaneglitch

@shiskabubble @novrium @liquidpaperfoundation  @theywontletmebeprincipal @gnomepng

@oursapphirestars @messilymoonlit @thesoulshyperrealaslacreatura @genderascendant

@frizzdotbizz @fitzfunnymoments @clownluverr @skunkes @chardis20

@milkshakehaver @call-me-rucy @professor-glasses @acridid-s @asharestupid

@vriendjes @lappyisgaming @jonpertwee @sailorminimoon @itssovaa

@earth-dad @karamelmikaelsons @butchdataset @lesvibes @squishysphealgirl

@prismatic-starstuff @fliptop @bell-bones @friendly-jester @aristotels

[writersdrug]

Bartender!Simon accidentally running into Waitress!Reader while she’s carrying a bunch of drinks for a table, causing them to spill all over herself 👉🏻👈🏻

Even more bonus points if she’s dressed in a white shirt, iykyk 👀

You're onto something here

Also, combining this with the ask about reader snooping through Simon's flat on the 3rd floor

Warnings: NSFW, slight humiliation, Simon goes from gentleman to having nasty nasty thoughts

It's a busy night - when mid-September rolls in, the nights get colder, and people gravitate towards the warm lighting of the bar through the street-front window. You still have a couple of hours left on your shift, which means Ghost still has a while, too.

He can't remember how many beers he's poured tonight. The noise of the shaker is drowned out by the buzz in his head. Mack wants another PBR. Table eleven still needs their shots and two Martinis. He's in the zone, pouring liquor and juices and bitters with practiced skill. He catches every word from the patrons at the bar - at least, every order. He mumbles out a quick "step back, please" when a gaggle of girls tries to stand near the end of the bar, waiting for their drinks. The bar is completely seated, people stuffing themselves between chairs to place their orders. Somon's got half a mind to tell them to clear out and get the fuck back, but he has to be civil. It won't be this hellish for too much longer - Price texted Simon that he'd be there in a bit to help.

Simon's more concerned about you: you're running around, delivering food and drink, bringing condiments and refilling waters - you're weaving between tables, maneuvering around bodies with a quick "sorry" or "scuse me"... you're at one table, and in the blink of an eye, you're at another. Simon sometimes doesn't realize you went into the kitchen until you're busting the door open with plates of food. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, your usual chipper attitude dampened by the Friday night rush. Simon doesn't miss the way you scowl when you hear a table calling for you, when both of your hands are full.

You push yourself through the crowd of girls hovering by the end of the bar. You huff, grabbing a tray and some glasses. "Is it national 'Go to a Bar' day?" You mumble, squeezing behind Simon and heading to the free soda gun.

He barely makes an effort to reply. "Must be." He grunts, pulling several bottles from the shelves and setting them on the counter. He's snatching this and that - you fill your glasses with water, sliding behind him and grabbing the various drinks on the end of the back and stacking them on your tray.

A man elbowed his way between the patrons at the bar. "Can I get another DogFish IPA?" He says, sticking his glass across the bar.

Simon groans internally, but he keeps a stoic face. He quickly leans to his left and reaches for the glass - right as you were picking up your tray, now stacked with drinks. You stumble back, not expecting Simon to be so close to you, and bump into one of the girls that crowds by the bar's entrance.

Simon feels his stomach drop when he sees each of the glasses topple over. You're instantly drenched, alcohol splashing across your eyes, which you have squeezed shut from the onslaught of fluids. Your shirt is absolutely soaked; a few of the glasses fall to the ground and shatter upon impact, alerting the entire bar and making their heads turn to you - the man who handed Simon the glass is ogling at you shamelessly, and the girl you'd bumped into turns around with a simple oh…

You're frozen, eyes wide and your entire front soaking. Your white shirt is practically see-through, clinging to your skin and providing little coverage for your pink, lacy bra. You look mortified and on the verge of tears. Your panicked stare drifts to Simon - you think he's going to yell at you, or worse: give you the silent treatment for the rest of the night because he's too frustrated to speak.

Simon is trying to keep his own staring under wraps – your tits look absolutely tantalizing, hugged so tightly by your wet shirt – but he snaps out of his daze when he sees your teary eyes. He drops everything - you're the most important person in the room right now. He quickly takes the tray from you and sets it aside.

"Here-" he shoves a fresh rag into your hands. "Cover up with that." He says, taking you by your shoulders and leaning down to your level. "Third floor, there's a dresser on th' left side, second drawer has shirts. Go dry off 'n get a new shirt, I'll clean this up."

You're too stunned to cry. You're angry, embarrassed, frustrated... there's so much happening around you, so many eyes staring at your fuck-up, but Simon's eyes keep you from losing control of your emotions. He doesn’t seem angry or irate – he’s worried about you. Shouldn't you help him clean up? It's your mess after all. "But-"

"Hush. Go on, luv - you're practically see-through." He quickly turns you around and gently shoves you into the crowd, and you hurry away to the stairwell without protest, holding the rag close to your chest.

Simon sighs. The pub slowly starts to return to normal, though people aren't trying as hard to get their drinks. A sense of shame seems to hang around everyone’s heads, though there was only one party at fault, here. He stares daggers at the girls who are still hovering by the bar. The one you ran into is gawking back in fear - she knows she messed up.

"Get the fuck back." Simon seethes, storming over to the POS. They all scramble away and press against the wall, afraid he might start swinging at them. "Finish ya drinks and leave. 'M closin' your tab. You're done."

They dissipate back into the crowd, right as Soap pops his head out of the kitchen. "Heard a crash, ye alright?"

"Fuckin' wankers can't understand simple orders." Simon grumbles, grabbing a broom from the corner and sweeping up the glass. "Slag couldn't get her ass out th' fuckin walkway and made bird spill a tray."

"Christ, she ok?"

"Upstairs. Changin'. Shirt nearly disappeared when it got wet."

"Need me tae check up on-"

"Got a fuckin' kitchen t' run, don't ya?"

Johnny scoffs and disappears back into the kitchen. Simon continues sweeping - he spots Price jogging up to the building throught he street front window, and he sighs in relief.

Upstairs, you do just as Simon instructed. You're topless, your bra still a bit damp after you tried to towel-dry it with he rag Simon gave you. You're sifting through his drawer, face scrunched as you shuffle through and inspect each shirt. You're a bit miffed at how many plain, black t shirts he has - has he ever stepped foot into an Old Navy? - but, eventually, you hit the jackpot.

You pull a shirt from the very bottom of the drawer. It's army green, a bit worn over the years, with a bit of a natural, masculine musk clinging to it. The right front chest has a skull, a sword, and wings, along with the table "Task Force 141". On the back, in large letters: "LT. RILEY".

A smile creeps its way onto your face. He never said which shirt... he said any shirt. And this is the one you want.

Your bra comes off quicky, the fabric still wet and uncomfortable. You toss it somewhere on the bed behind you – you’re sure Simon wouldn’t mind if you hung it over the back of his chair, right? Can’t be wearing a wet bra while you’re running around the restaurant; you’d have a bra-shaped water stain on your shirt. Or, worse – you’d get sick. And you know for a fact (though he’s never said it to you) that Simon would kick himself if you got sick on the job.

You quickly pull the shirt on - it swallows you, both in size and scent. It smells just like him - the bodywash you catch a whiff of when you pass him, the slight muskiness that surrounds you when he reaches above you to grab something - it's all there, just tenfold. You stand up and pull it down; it covers your thighs down to your shorts, almost making it look like you weren’t wearing any to an unassuming person.

You take a peek around the room: it’s quite cozy, even with a lack of real décor. The bed sits against the middle of the wall, with Carolina blue sheets and a grey comforter. The pillows look rather worn, but there’s at least three of them. There’s a television on the dresser that faces the bed, and a small bookshelf in the corner next to an antique-looking chair, except the shelf is filled with mostly keepsakes and memorabilia. Any books in the room are stacked on the edges of the two bay windows, embedded in the brick wall that faces the street. The only lighting comes from three lamps: one on the nightstand by his bed, a taller one next to the clothes rack near the bathroom, and a lantern-looking lamp that he’s somehow attached next to the door.

Curiosity gets the better of you – discovering anything about Simon that he hasn’t already told you is like striking oil. You pad over to the shelf, leaning down to inspect the various objects. A balaclava, rolled up and tucked behind a box. In said box is a medal, bronze and dull, with a fist tightly holding a blazing torch. A worn-down pair of sunglasses lay next to a ring. A green stone sits on a silver band, nestled between two ivy vines. There’s a picture of the four of them: Simon, Johnny, Price, and even Kyle – you had assumed they had met Kyle through the restaurant industry, but there they all were. Dressed in military uniforms, holding guns and posing with stern faces in front of a helicopter. Simon was wearing a rather terrifying skull mask, the rest of him completely covered by his uniform. You were only able to recognize Simon from his brown eyes, but the man in the photo looked entirely different from the bartender downstairs.

Fuck! You completely forgot that you were a waitress, sniffing around your manager’s office when you should be tending to your tables. You turned on your heel and left Simon’s room, running down the stairs two at a time.

Simon was still in the eye of the storm – barely a word had been passed between him and Price, other than a simple hello when he had first hopped behind the bar. Simon was keeping an eye on your tables, which were currently satisfied for the time being – but damn, what was taking you so long? Were you showcasing all of his shirts? The thought of that would’ve had him biting his cheek to prevent a boner, but he was too busy to be anything but concerned for you.

On cue, you come bounding down the stairs, throwing yourself back into the busy crowd as you tie your server apron around your waist. Simon pours a tap, barely able to make out your form flitting through the crowd, making sure your tables are well-off and happy. Price calls your name over the din of the crowd, and you squeeze yourself through the mass of people to collect the drinks sitting on the end of the bar.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, setting your drinks on a tray. “Had to mop myself up a bit with the rag. Did anyone order anything from my tables?” you ask, looking at Simon.

He’s… occupied. His eyes are trained on your shirt. His shirt. That army green that brought up so many old memories, ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time,..

His shirt. Covering your body – and, fucking Christ, you’re not wearing a bra. You’re completely naked under that shirt.

You’re confused. He’s staring at you with such a shocked, glassy pair of eyes that you wonder if you’ve shot him in the leg. You look down at what he’s staring at – oh, right. The shirt. A part of you heats up in embarrassment, and a part in… something else. Yes, I took your shirt. I’ve got your name on my back. If he’s thoroughly upset by this, he’s not expressing it. And if you’re mistaken in the thought that he looks aroused (you wouldn’t be surprised to find him drooling behind the mask – you know how delicious you look right now), you’ll give him the shirt back eventually and pretend this never happened.

“Thanks for earlier.” You spoke over the noisy chatter around you. “This, uh- I hope it’s ok, it was the first shirt I saw.”

Bullshit. He knows he buried that thing deep in his drawer. He did it on purpose. “’S fine.” He mumbles, still dazed.

You glance at him as you carefully balance the tray on your hand. The printer is dealing ticket after ticket of drinks as Price enters them – the man looks at Simon with a frustrated, tight-lipped glare, working double-time to push orders through.

“I’ll be back to grab the rest.” You say quickly. You scurry off, careful to avoid slamming into anyone this time. Simon nearly has a heart attack when he sees his last name across your back. You might as well have his bite mark branded onto the side of your neck.

This opens up a nasty can of worms for him. He’s a goner – he’s thinking about chasing you around the bar, after hours, while all you’re wearing is his shirt; snatching you up and slamming you down on the bar, shoving his face in between your thighs; what you sound like when he pumps you with his fingers; pounding you against the wall in the office, hips crashing into yours as he growls and grunts in your ear, “wanna wear my fuckin’ name, baby? hmm? wanna make sure everyone in this fuckin’ pub knows you’re mine? I’ll gladly fuckin’ help you, fuckin’ tease-“; god, he needs you, he needs to know what you feel like wrapped around his dick, what you sound like when he’s reaching those spots, he needs your nails in his back and your palm smacking him across his face and your teeth on his neck-

“Simon!”

John’s- no, Captain Price’s voice shuts off the movie playing in his mind. He looks at him, barely recognizing the growing frustration in his eyes – Simon’s fighting his own demons right now, and he isn’t even sure if his Captain’s wrath can save him.

“Stop thinkin’ with your Pork Sword and get your arse back on bar.” Price barks – a few of the regulars laugh at that, and Simon realizes he’d had an audience.

He clears his throat and grabs a ticket, quickly reading it and grabbing a glass. He forces himself to let go of the fantasy – he’ll have all night to think about it once he closes. That, or he’ll be hating himself for even thinking of you in that way, especially when the situation wasn’t in your favor. For now, though, he’s got a job to do. He continues to pour and stir and shake drinks left and right, occasionally stealing glances at you, prancing around with his title.

He knows one thing’s for certain – your bra is still somewhere in his room.

[nightingale-prompts]

Comforting Your Batboy

First | Previous | Next

Danny slept next to Dick for a few days after what happened. He no longer felt secure about his place here. No matter where you go you take yourself with you and Danny is the problem here yet again.

Danny didn't understand affection, at least not the kind that a parent gave. The moment Danny told Dick that his parents were scientists Richard understood. Gotham had seen dozens of scientists who pushed the boundaries of morality and there was no shortage of children used to fulfill their ambitions.

Danny still missed his parents. Regardless of how things ended, he had lived his entire life with a family unit that on paper meant life was stable. He had somewhere to go and people who at least acknowledged him as family. Parents that took care of him at least out of obligation.

This story sounded familiar. Like Jason who never stopped loving his mom despite everything or Tim who accepted his neglect as what it was. They didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved them like they should. Dick was lucky to have the parent he had.

Danny remembered quiet dinners as his parents rushed to finish the food that Jazz made or them going on long tirades about their research. For 12 years they devotedly worked on that portal. Every chance they got they'd run off to the basement. Because it was their life's work, the only thing that mattered.

When it was unveiled, Jazz only scoffed. She hated the portal. Dad looked to Danny for praise and Danny didn't know what to say.

"Isn't it just the greatest thing you've ever seen?" Dad put his hand around Danny's shoulder.

"Well...its definitely a thing." Danny laughed awkwardly.

Danny had hoped that when the portal finished it would mean he'd spend time with his parents. Maybe they'd give him more than a passing glance when he brought them his report card. He could share with them his dreams and plans to be an astronaut. Show them the stars and all his research. To prove to them that he was a scientist too.

But that didn't happen. None of that would ever happen.

Jazz warned him not to hope for too much.

"People don't change Danny." She said simply.

Danny still tried. He still hoped. That hope made him try.

That hope killed him.

Danny never told Dick the specifics, about the accident. Dick never pried, but he knew something wasn't right.

Danny would cry in his sleep some nights. Dreams of a life that was far away now. Dick couldn't do much, all he could do was hold Danny's hand and wait for the nightmare to pass in hopes that Danny would forget his dream when he opened his eyes.

Danny's body was scarred. Something he used his powers to cover but they were still there and appeared when the stress got too much. Dick only saw a small part of them.

Dick got a full view once of Danny's back once when Dick left him a change of clothes. Lichtenberg scars like feathered ferns ripped through Danny's left arm and back. Danny hated it when people saw his scars and the marks disappeared the moment he realized he was being watched.

Dick didn't mention it. Not even the faint green glow the marks gave off.

"Why does Batman hate me?" Danny asked peeking out from under his blanket. He was still shrunk down

Dick bundled the toddler up in the blanket.

"He doesn't hate you. He just...he doesn't like things he doesn't understand." Dick tried to not make that sound awful.

"He doesn't understand me." Danny sighed.

"And he doesn't have to. He won't do anything to you. Not with me around. I promise. I know you've been hurt before and you must have felt alone but you got me." Dick ruffled his little fuzzball's hair.

(Ignore small errors. Have bat picture.)