#you didnt specify your muse

[silverxwords]

@solisanima liked x for a starter!

"... I have no interest in seeming a fool." Megatron rumbled, red optics glinting.

[dxnse-macabre]

@fallesto asked: "You've made a big mistake, and you'll regret it."

HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO RESPOND TO HIM ? beg for his forgiveness ? astarion was given his life back, but with every day that passed, he wished he never AGREED for the other to turn him ... to get another chance at life. this ... this wasn't life. it was SLAVERY .

❝ i will NOT hunt children. i did all that you've asked -- i burned their homes, brought back those poor, lovestruck souls ... but i draw the LINE at the children. they do not deserve this. ❞

he cheek still stung at the man's previous SLAP , but it was not like astarion could assault the other in retaliation. no ... he couldn't even move as much as a muscle towards the other.

so the elf settled on grinding his teeth, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he stared down CAZADOR .

[bhaalsdeepbat]

I'm going to make some of you feel really fucking old:

Choose your adventure Quizilla long fic

full offense but none of you would have ever survived fanfiction.net in 2009

[caracalclaws]

@goddamnmuses​ || permenant starter call

“... That was a preee~tty nasty fall you had back there...”

Shadow’s the Ultimate Lifeform, no doubt he’d endured worse-- but her ears flick back in concern, brows furrowed together. Lips purse as her head tilts at him; this line of work was brutal, would jade even the brightest of sparks, but she couldn’t help her worry. They were technically colleagues, after all.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

[leclsrc]

3k celeb toimeee ~_~ darting eyes with pregnant reader and best friends lily and alex please? love u mother

guessing game – ...?

Your two closest friends scramble to guess who got you knocked up.

auds here... hi love u didnt specify who u want the baby daddy to be... so i spun it into something of the sort bahaha

Alex finds the plastic positive test first, on the floor of his bathroom. On instinct, he literally screams for Lily, who rushes over to him and tells him it’s not hers, and for a minute Alex thinks oh Christ, is it mine? It’s only after Lily slaps his shoulder that they begin thinking of who might own it, thinking it’d really only belong to the only other person they love enough to let pee in their flat.

In a flurry of panic, they ransack the place trying to find you (it’s a three bedroom, so not too much ransacking is done, really) and eventually find peace when they peek into the rooftop deck and find you watching the overcast, dreary city with a blank expression on your face. You turn when you hear their footsteps on the cement, features softening instantly.

“You freaked us out,” Lily says, but she’s hugging you tight. “Alex saw it.”

“I thought it was mine for a second,” he says, earning himself another light shove. You laugh, but it doesn’t really hold with your anxiety, your anticipation, your nerves. You know, you can feel their burning questions creeping up on you, but they hold back for your sake.

“Are you okay?” Alex adds, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You sigh, shrugging.

“Sure. I’m keeping it, I guess. I’m just nervous. I haven’t even told the d—” Your voice hitches into silence, and you purse your lips. “Yeah.”

You can tell they’re absolutely dying to ask you who it is, but you don’t want to speak it aloud.

It’s just because when you do, it’ll feel so much more real. So real, so damning, once there’s a name to the mysterious figure, once they know who he is. But they’re your best friends, and just based on their eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting millimeter to millimeter, you can pick up on their inner monologues, their musings, and the theories they will no doubt share to one another over dinner or beer when you’re gone.

—

“Paul.” Lily says, tossing the stuffed bear to her boyfriend. He takes it and holds it, humming contemplatively. “Alex, it’s him. That’s the last guy she slept with, like, four weeks ago. And they did it twice I think.”

“Yeaaaaah, but. Yeesh. Paul?” He grimaces, face souring as if he’d just eaten a lemon wedge. “He was ugly.”

She laughs. “Then it means our best friend is going to have an ugly baby. Throw me the bear.”

“Oh—aha! Ahhh-ha! It can’t be Paul, she was in California last month, remember?! She had that whole work thing. And he was in Europe. Can’t make a baby over Skype, now can you.” He pumps his eyebrows and throws the bear, satisfied with his rebuttal as he watches his girlfriend stutter for her own. 

“Maybe she had a one night stand with someone in California?” Lily hums. “Did you know anyone who was there last month?”

She pouts to herself, deep in thought. She’s worried for you, above all, but she can’t knock the curiosity out of herself. It seems weird that neither she or her boyfriend are even remotely able to pinpoint the guy’s identity at once, mostly because they both know you so well. Lily especially, because you’re not in the business of spilling hookup secrets to Alex (he gets wind of it via Lily instead), and she had herself convinced she’d heard almost all of it.

“No, I didn’t see anything. Lots of drivers were on off-time last month, so it was all personal trips. But if she got knocked up a bit before L.A., she did go to that gala where a few drivers were hanging out, too.” He makes grabby hands for the bear, but Lily holds it out of reach, still confused and lost in thought.

She was so sure it was Paul—he was the only guy you told her about over the last few months. Sure, there were flings, but they were terribly short-lived, and that was only because you’re not one to date for a while. “The timeline doesn’t add up, but. Okay, who was there?”

“Um. Charles, and Carlos.”

“So it might be them.”

“Yeah, but slim chance.”

Grumbling, she tosses the bear back. “You win,” she sighs. “We’ll see. I’m totally blanking.”

“So am I,” Alex responds, evidently bummed.

—

Yuki hosts birthday dinner with the people on the grid he can “tolerate,” he said, which of course started with Pierre and Nyck, seated on either side of the celebrant. Plus ones are allowed, so Alex brought Lily, too, and Yuki loves you too much to discount you from the guest list, so the three of you are sitting next to each other. Charles, and Lando occupy the last two seats.

“Remember that gala you went to last month?” Lily asks in faux-nonchalance.

“Oh, yeah. Carlos and I had way too much vodka that time, like jeeez.” You make a face of disgust.

Alex squeezes Lily’s hand so hard she has to contain a squeal. They’ve got you pinned.

—

An hour into the dinner, your eyes begin to dart back and forth, breaths leaving you in quiet little huffs, which is your easiest tell—you’re nervous. Anticipatory. Bumbling. Sometime after the collective effort of teaching Pierre how to use chopsticks and watching the wooden utensil fly away and into the restaurant’s open aquarium, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

Immediately, your departure sends Alex and Lily into sleuth mode again. 

She extracts a pen from her purse and clicks it a few times, reviewing the facts. One, you haven’t told the dad yet, you said, which means there’s no awkward air between the two of you. Two, it’s someone on the paddock, or someone friends with someone on the paddock (the only clue you told them, and a really useless one considering how big social circles run in racing).

Its Carlos? she writes on a napkin, passing it to Alex.

DUNNO…. Maybe is the response. How bout Yuki? “What’s your birthday wish, Yukino?” Lando asks as she writes; Lily makes an attempt to look engaged but half-fails, eyes trained on her written words.

Are u crazy she scribbles. Lando?

“To travel outside of work,” Yuki says. “Be by myself, or with a friend. Taste food everywhere.” She wouldnt sleep with him if he paid her, Alex writes furiously quickly after paying the driver a long, scrutinizing glance.

“I heard of a cool place somewhere in Vietnam,” Lily chimes in to seem involved, but she doesn’t look up from her writing. Ok… so it’s not a driver?

She passes it to Alex and looks up. “They sell the best pho.”

“If you like Asian food, mate, Nobu is good, too,” Charles offers, smiling.

Alex passes the tissue, now worn thin with the writing, back. Idk. I bet it is tho. Doobius. She reads over it a few times in a cross between amusement and what she can only describe as being totally weirded out.

ITS DUBIOUS, she corrects, and for good measure she underlines the U several times. They’re losing the plot, distracted.

“I only hear the best about that place,” Nyck quips. “What Nobu did you go to?”

SORRY IM NOT AN EXPERT MISS HE

“California, in L.A.”

I dont think theres a single word spelled like that Alex

Pierre makes a curious noise. “Los Angeles? I didn’t know you went there, mate. When?”

Ok miss expert comes the funny reply.

“Last month,” Charles says.

Youre such a di

She pauses as she writes, waiting for herself to piece together why his sentence means so much. Nobu. California. L.A.

Last month.

The words register, click in her mind. In unison, Alex and Lily’s wide eyes immediately snap up to Charles’ relaxed figure, and he notices, laughing a bit nervously. No way, they’re thinking. The answer’s dropped right into their laps.

Now visibly stuffy, Charles smiles politely. “What is going on?”

“You—!” Alex raises a finger, ready to make his epiphany verbal in his fit of excitement, but at the last moment spots you walking back in, dabbing your lip gloss in place. He deflates. “Y—you, you—are a fan of sushi?!”

Charles blinks. “Um… sure.”

Lily makes a show of happiness. “That’s great!” she chirps, laughing phonily. “So great!”

Alex nods along. “So great, so great!”

You slide into your seat, smiling. “Hi. What’s so great?”

“Oh,” Lily says, laughing smugly and meeting your eyes. “Oh, you have no idea.”

[goldenthreadstories]

{ sooo today has been a good day of progress for tidying and sorting in my flat. New kitchens all done so everythings been moved back there and my neighbour gave me a coffee table they didnt want as they are getting new one - its so fancy!! }

{ Anyway this evening im really im a drawing mood and yes i know i have a few things to owe from the giveaway on my archived blog which i will finish soon, but like this post if you would like me to do a doodle of your muse - if a multi please specify muse youd like doodled!! }

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x gender neutral!reader

Adore You

Spencer knew you very well. After spending years at your side working on countless cases - well, everyone else on the team would say countless, but Spencer would specify 302 - it was safe to say he had noticed and noted all of your quirks. One thing in particular Spencer had recognised was your habit of expressing your affectionate feelings towards others. At least once a day, he had noticed, you would tell someone on the team that you loved them. You have always been a very loving person, your lack of fear towards expressing such feelings to anyone and everyone you knew was something that the young genius admired.

It was so natural for you to be completely honest with everyone around you, and always in the kindest way, but Spencer had accepted a sad reality. Everyone on the team had heard you tell them that you love them multiple times. Everyone, except him. You had never told Spencer you loved him, and you had never been honest about why. He had never asked you, though, so perhaps if he did ask then he would get an answer, but that scared him more. You spent the most time with Spencer, logic would say that meant the two of you were very close, and because you hadnt expressed your love for him, Spencer’s insecurities got the better of him. It was assumed and accepted by his own mind that you knew him and his flaws so well that you couldnt love him.

One day, though, his entire world was turned upside down. You were on the daily coffee run with him, having a casual discussion about existentialism.

“This reminds me of a joke, would you like to hear it?” Spencer offered, already chuckling softly at the joke that only he usually found funny.

“Of course!” You responded in the way he had expected, with radiant joy expressed in the most gorgeous grin.

Spencer cleared his throat. “How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

Your grin widened as you shrugged. “I dont know.”

Spencer gave himself a momentary pep talk inside his own head before he revealed the punchline. “Two! One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness."

For just a second, you were silent, and Spencer’s mind spiralled. You didnt find the joke funny, of course you didnt, nobody ever did, what was the point in even bringing it up!?! You were the smartest person he knew in ways that he could never dream of, but was it possible you didnt understand the joke? He rushed to explain it to you, but before he could make a sound, you burst out laughing. Spencer saw tears in your eyes as your cheeks inflamed, a hearty laugh escaping from your lips as you bent over, clutching your stomach. In between gasping for air, you managed to speak words that changed Spencer’s life forever.

“Oh my goodness Spencer, I love you!”

Alarm bells rang inside the mind of the curly haired genius. Spencer felt himself venturing into a state of shock, but it was not the time for him to do that, so he pushed his own shock to the back of his mind and continued as though you hadnt just made his heart skip a beat.

“Well, you are the only person I have told that joke to that has actually found it funny.” He replied, voicing thoughts that were definitely not a priority in his head, but he did take pride in making you laugh as much as he had.

“Clearly you need to find yourself a better audience!” You answered, flashing him another stunning smile that made Spencer’s head spin.

“I think I just did.” He mused as he held the coffee shop door open for you.

That night, Spencer was lying in bed in a hotel room with the knowledge that you and the rest of the team were sleeping in your separate rooms down the hall. His mind had, thankfully, been occupied by the case for the rest of the day, but the moment he stepped inside his hotel room his head was swarmed. Spencer tossed and turned under the covers, unable to process the conversation he had with you that morning. It was so like every instance in which you had told your other team members that you loved them, but why had it taken you so long to tell him you loved him? Why did it take a terrible joke for you to admit that? Why was it not a more momentous occasion, or when he had done something for you that made your day? Did it mean something different, because you had waited so long to say it? If it didnt mean something different, why wait to say it? Spencer couldnt rationalise any of the questions that swirled around his mind; he knew you better than anyone, but he needed you to answer the questions he had, and he knew he wouldnt rest until you had.

Naturally, the only solution was for Spencer to get out of bed and speed walk down the hall, to knock on your hotel room door. Spencer counted, it took five seconds for you to reach the door, and in those five seconds he was drowned in guilt for waking you. But when the door opened, his mind went blank. You stood before him, your hair in a messy ponytail that was nowhere near as straight as you had initially positioned it, you were rubbing your tired eyes and squinting in the light of the hallway. You were easily the most beautiful thing Spencer had ever seen.

“Spencer? What’re you doing here? It’s 2am.” You grumbled curiously, sleep leaving your system at a much faster rate as soon as you realised who was at your door.

“Im sorry to wake you, couldnt sleep. Why did you say you loved me?” Spencer saw no point in beating around the bush, he needed answers.

“Because I do???” You responded, as though it was completely obvious.

“In what context?” Spencer pushed, and your eyes widened.

“Oh wow, we’re really doing this now?” You chuckled, straightening out your pyjamas nervously, which Spencer found absolutely adorable.

“Yes.” He nodded, his gaze holding yours as he searched your eyes for any hint as to where your next words would take him.

“Well I mean in that SPECIFIC scenario it’s because you gave a perfect example of your unique sense of humour, and I love that, but it is a well known fact to everyone on the team - except you - that I do adore you.” You confessed, your voice coming across as far more confident than your expressed feelings made you seem. Perhaps it was the remaining tiredness that lingered and dulled the weight of your own words, or maybe it was because you had accepted this truth so long ago.

He had so many questions, but after hearing that, he forgot every other thought he had ever had. Not love, but adore? You adore him.

“Oh.”

You felt the air start to get heavy, and you avoided his eyes. “...Yeah.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “I adore you too.”

You lifted your gaze from the floor. “You do?”

“Yes.” He replied instantly, no trace of a doubt in any aspect of his being, your quick profiling of his body language confirmed that.

“Cool...You wanna cuddle then?” You suggested casually, stepping aside to invite him inside your hotel room.

“Ok.”

As he entered your room, Spencer smiled slightly, and you reflected it back at him, both of your smiles growing when he stopped in your doorway and you looked up at him. You had all the time in the world, and Spencer made sure not to skip out on taking a few seconds to just admire you as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He suddenly broke out into a grin, and you raised an eyebrow at him, asking wordlessly what had made him smile. And as Spencer shook his head, he leaned down to pull you into a kiss, while the same singular thought danced inside his head.

The embodiment of everything right and beautiful in the world, adores him.

[crowncursed]

i just realized i didnt specify muse LMAO it was for Simon :]

How does my muse feel about yours? // accepting

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

[hanasnx]

❝ okay, but this is the last time. ❞

── hobie brown x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2.8k SUMMARY: after not speaking for an extended period of time, you didn’t like the idea of ever seeing hobie again. when he shows up to your door unexpectedly, things take a turn for the better. NOTES: takes place around the beginning of spiderverse 2 | hobie’s voice is hard to write for i tried my best | hobie is at least 18 they didnt specify in the movie but if hes not then hes aged up. WARNINGS: f!reader | established relationship (fwbs most likely but idk) | reader is a spider of her own universe | hobie has a nickname for you “bug” | no use of y/n | make out | some bickering | vag fingering | hand size difference (tried to make reader as ambiguous as possible) | praise | objectification (mention of being used and being used like a toy) | protected and explicit sex.

You hadn’t seen him. For months you hadn’t seen him. There’s nothing you share in common anymore. Your career had taken a dramatic shift, and you’d been different ever since, exacerbating his distance. With the way things ended, you didn’t expect to see him again. 

Yet here he stands, outside your door, his hood up to protect himself from the rain. 

“Gonna let me in, bug? Or should I've brought a permission slip from the old man?” HOBIE BROWN remarks, shrugging his hands in the pockets of his jean vest. Soundlessly, you step aside, and he invites himself in. He regards the entrance of your home, and that expression on his face always gives the impression he’s sizing up anything he lays his eyes on. Hobie is judgemental when it counts, but part of you is abashed that he’s about to spew nonsense condemning every artifact in your apartment. “Warm in here.” he muses, shrugging off his jacket to toss it over your coat hooks. “Smells good, what’s steamin’?” He gestures to the kitchen and after you lock your front door you return to your lunch in its pan. He checks out your ass in leggings as you pass him. 

“What are you doing here, Hobie?” you call over your shoulder from your position. Just outside of your field of vision, he slumps onto your couch. You hear every rustle of his layered clothes and mixed-media accessories. 

“Got some free time, figure I’d pop in.” he replies and you turn off the burner, having lost your appetite. “How’s it been since you got kicked?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Fair ‘nough.” 

You exit, leaning against the doorway to the living room. Hobie looks over the back of the couch to gaze at you. His piercings glint in the soft lamp light and the rain outside picks up.  

An uncomfortable silence falls, and you avert your eyes to avoid how his bore into you. Quickly, you think up a question so you don’t suffocate. “So, what’s been going on with you? Anything new?” Is there a reason for your unannounced visit?

“Not much, to be honest,” he sighs, folding his leg to rest his ankle on his knee. He messes with the lace of his boot to fidget. “Gwendy’s got nowhere to go so she’s crashin’ at my place. Didn’t feel like goin’ ‘ome so I’m here.” 

You’d heard of Gwen back when Hobie’d first befriended her. Smart kid, tragic story. 

His charitable act softens you, and you round the couch. “That’s nice of you.” You relax, and sit at the armrest, as far from him as you can afford. 

“Why so far away? C’mon, I won’t bite,” he jokes, falling into that old familiarity that he's so susceptible to. His arm raises over his head, fanning out behind you, his fingers picking at your hoodie to capture your attention. 

You cock your head in his direction, a wry smile on your lips. “Don’t tell me you think everything’s fine after what happened.” 

In response, he’s taken aback, but his hand remains. “It’s been a while, bug, I know, it’s not like I meant to not see you. Got… swept up.” his tone of voice heightens with his excuses, “I’m not from around here, you get that, can’t show up just ‘cause I feel it.” You pivot your body towards him, tucking your legs to the side. 

“Yeah, but you operate that way with everything else.” you interject, “If you wanted to see me, you would’ve.” 

A knowing grin stretches onto his face, so handsome when he tries, hooking you with his surly attitude and reeling you in with his charm. “Ah, that’s not fair, love,” 

In an attempt to steel yourself, you cross your arms, and force the next words out. “I’m not trying to be.” 

Hobie purses his lips, and his eyes trail down your figure. “Yeah, I missed you, bug.” 

“Nicknames are reserved for friends.” 

He lulls his head to the side, a single finger strokes down your jawline. “Good thing we ain’t friends, huh?” A tap to your chin. 

A sharp inhale, and you press your lips into a thin line. Your anger and your frustration with him are at the forefront of your mind, but the passion he instills within you comes flooding in. All of those late night encounters, tangled in each other until well into the morning hours, hopping into each other’s universes just so you didn’t have to say goodbye for too long. 

You’d gotten kicked from the force— you couldn’t blame Miguel for his decision— but ever since, you and Hobie’s relationship had faded out. You missed him… terribly. It’s not like you’d promised yourself to each other, but you have yet to get over him. Maybe this is the way to do it? 

“No, no we’re not.” you concede, and you lean in. Your lips brush his, soft and slow, letting him accept you by meeting you. Mouths press together, parting each other to explore what was once so greedily devoured. This time it’s gentle, intimate, and careful. Tongues slide together, how he circles the tip of yours makes you shiver.

He speaks against you, “Knew you’d open right up to me, love,” You can hear his arrogance, and you fist his vest, drawing him back to you so you can shut him up. 

The energy shifts, desperation roots, and while you pull him to you, he maneuvers to hover over you. Successfully getting you on your back has never been a problem for him, and he uses his free hands to wander what he could not touch for so long. His thumbs graze the sides of your chest, and he handles your waist while he plunges his tongue deeper, eager to taste whatever he’s offered. A noise of surprise emits from you and he retracts to fix your legs for you. Your knees at his hips as he kneels in between them.

“Don’t be a jerk.” you breathe, and he scoffs. 

“Take your clothes off.” he tells you as he rips off his vest to throw it to the floor. 

“If you think this isn’t just a lucky, one-time only—“ you warn him while you do exactly as he’s asked: pulling your hoodie and shirt up and over, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your yoga pants to tug them down. Hobie helps you by yanking them off, now shirtless and impatient. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, collapsing onto you to bury his nose in your neck, nuzzling the skin to plant a trail of kisses. “You smell good… is that the perfume I bought you?” It’s emphasized with his teeth scraping against you, biting down onto your pulse point. You writhe underneath him. 

“So what if it is?” Your hands find their home on his shoulders, clawing him as he sucks onto you, and licks his marks. 

He hums, his hips pressing into yours until you feel the outline of his hardening length against your panties. “You’re mad at me, would’a figured you’d tossed it.” His hand traverses you, massaging your chest, rolling your nip between his fingers. He’d kept his cuffs on, and you rolled your eyes. 

The response you’re mustering died on your lips when Hobie latches his mouth onto your nipple, enveloping as much flesh as he can while his tongue reintroduces itself to your nub. Warm and wet, rolling it, and you whine. Your hips stutter, seeking out any friction as he works, both buds occupied by either his hand or his mouth, and he obliges you. His hand abandons you, only to shift for more room and palm your mound. The heel of his gloved hand grinds into your clit, granting you a fleeting sense of relief until you require more. 

“Already wet, huh? Can feel it through your thong,” his breath against his spit on your skin makes you shudder, and your patience wears thin. 

“Can you just do something already? Fuck,” You blindly reach for his studded belt, unbuckling it but Hobie’s deft fingers begin toying with your folds in a way that paralyzes you, halts you from any conquest because of how long it’s been since you’ve been touched. You exhale, and he holds your gaze as he draws your panties aside. A pinky finger swipes up your sex, collecting your arousal on the tip. 

“I’m doin’ it. Chill a second, yeah?” he tells you, and your cheeks burn red. “All this for a little kissing. Makes you wonder when’s the last time you got some.” He’s making fun of you, and your hips chase his touch instinctively. The pads of his fingers gather your essence to lube up your neglected clit, settling into a rhythm as he places sweet kisses wherever he can reach. Your tits, upper chest, and neck. He’s teasing you. 

“Are you trying to get me to beg?” you ask, exasperated and horny. 

He flashes a downturn of his lips, and dips down to lick the salty sweat off your skin. “Couldn’t hurt.” 

“Hobie,” 

“There it is. There’s my name out that pretty mouth,” 

“I told you not to be a jerk.”

Hobie regards you with a tilt of his head. “Suit yourself.” He brings his hand up so he can undo the cuff, tugging off the fingerless glove. Your stomach flips at the sight, a forefront as to what’s to come. Once he returns, his tact disappears; out of spite he dives not one, but two fingers into your hole. A stretch that stings causes you to hiss. “S’what you wanted, right?” The devious curl of his lips let you know he’s not going to make this easy for you. They remain rooted inside you to the hilt, and you lick your own digits to massage your clit yourself, loosening yourself. “Oh, I get a show too,” he muses and you wish you could shove him off of you. The fact is, this is an opportunity you can’t pass up. No one can do it like Hobie. Your sex drools around him, and he thrusts his fingers in tandem with your rocking. His hand is big, which reaches spots inside you you’ve never been able to find on your own. “That’s it, girl, just like that,” he praises, watching your hole suck his fingers up so greedily. When it’s not enough, he adds another one of his, and flicks your limb off so he can taste your clit with his tongue. 

You cry out. Three fingers and your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, chasing your high as he sucks your clit into his mouth. That coil in your belly tightening with each rock, and your walls clench around him, signaling your impending release. 

Hobie doesn’t dare speak a word, opting to watch you as you go through the cycle of an orgasm. Your toes curling, legs shaking, tensing up as he maintains the pace for you, until it washes over you and he slows to a stop. 

You drop your head against the armrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling as euphoria simmers within you, breathing hard. “Fuck.” Gingerly, he expels his hand from you, coated in your finish, and promptly sucks it off while it’s still warm. Your taste is something he never gets tired of. 

“You think you’re ready for me, bug? I’m aching over here,” he speaks while you listen to the shuffle of his jeans. Undoing them to tug them down. A thrills jolts you, and you beat him to the waistband of his boxers, scraping him with your nails when you yank them down so readily. His cock, hard and long, springs free and greets you leaking with pre-cum. An endearing patch of dark pubic hair at the base, like he trimmed for you in anticipation for this visit. 

“Did you expect this?” you inquire playfully, and he gives you a look, following your eye line to answer his mental question. 

“Just in case. Trying to be polite, is all.” he justifies and you snicker as he undresses your panties from you for a better range of motion. “C’mere, darlin’, let me have a look at’cha,” Words emphasized by the way he manhandles you, directing your limbs for you until you’re bent over in front of him on all fours. “Fucking missed this,” 

Involuntarily, a whimper spills from you. You’re obsessed with his voice, enchanted with the way he talks about you even if it’s foul. “Are you gonna stare or are you gonna fuck me?”

“My, you’re cheeky tonight.” he replies while he fishes a condom out of his jeans pocket. You listen to the familiar crackling of the wrapper, and the latex as he rolls it onto him. He gives himself a few pumps, and guides his cock to your entrance, easing it inside ever so slightly. Inching himself in to let you adjust. “Fuck, almost forgot how good you feel,” 

You forgot how big he is, surging forward until your cheek meets the armrest of the couch. “Easy, Hobie, easy,” 

“I’m trying,” By the strain of his voice, he’s telling the truth. “You’re sucking me up, love, she knows what she wants.” Your sex did have a way of drawing him in, and he had a way of referring to it with a pronoun. It does the trick, slickening you up, and he sinks in until he can bottom out. 

Finally, you’re filled— to the brim. The two of you bask in it a second, and he rests his hand on your tailbone. He leans back until the lip of his head catches on you, and settles back in. He bites his bottom lip, the metal of his piercing against his teeth as he quickens his pace to set a steady rhythm. Every cell in his body is already screaming after being inside you once again. He’s fantasized about it nearly everyday. Pondering his desperation, how he craved you for those months, adds to his restlessness. His palm on your tailbone pushes you back onto his cock, making you meet his thrusts. 

You’re practically liquid, allowing him to do what he pleases with you just to hear those heavenly groans spill from his throat. Once you’re able, you rock back, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix each time. 

“You feel that? I’m right there… at the end of you. Oh, fuck,” he simpers, palming your hips so he can control your movements. “You have the most amazing ass,” he praises in awe, watching the way your flesh ripples each time you make contact with his thighs. 

“Hobie, fuck me,” you whine, and he can’t refuse you. He seeks out your arms, snatching up your wrists to stretch them out behind you, your back arches from the position. Impossibly faster, he rails you and your head bobs as he uses your own body as leverage. Your jaw drops, every unintelligible noise bubbling up from inside you as pleasure courses through you at being used like a toy. 

He keeps his concentration where it ought to be: fucking you senseless. Ramming into you over and over again, listening to the symphony of sounds your conjoined bodies make. The wet, squelching noises that come with fucking your hole still full of your own cum. It drips down your legs. 

Attentively, he puts one of your arms down so he can free his hand up, bending over you until your hot skins are pressed against each other. He winds an arm around you, finding your clit to play with while he screws you. You rest your cheek onto the couch cushion, relaxing under his touch, and that coil in your belly tightens again. “You gonna cum for me again, princess?” he says against your ear, nipping at the lobe. 

You can’t even speak, whining your affirmations and nodding your head into the fabric. 

“Go on, let me feel it,” 

His permission opens the gates, and your walls flutter around him as you release. How you constrict makes his movements stutter, squeezing him in all the right places as your essence accumulates at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, thick ropes of his cum spurts and paints his condom; a powerful shudder courses through him. Stammering to a halt, he rests his forehead against your shoulder as he basks in the feeling. For a second, you two just catch your breath together, until he unsheathes. “Can’t believe how much I love shagging you.” 

You wish you could do it more often. All the time, in fact, but it’s not something you can admit to him. So you hum in confirmation as he takes off his condom, and ties it off. 

“I’ll make it a point to visit.” Hobie promises, his hands tucked into his vest pockets. 

“Don’t push it, Brown, you were lucky this time.” 

He scoffs and glances away before wrapping you with an arm, drawing you into him to peck your forehead. “Yeah, well, I’m sure I’ll get lucky next time.” His cockiness makes you push him off playfully. His other hand pulls out the thong you were wearing earlier from his pocket. “So, I’ll keep these, then?” 

[holygroundscafe]

💤 Z » Milo

Milo slowly came awake, blinking from a dream where he'd been slipping into a pool of warm, inviting liquid. It had been almost a feeling of being hugged, not by water, but something thick, substantial.

As he became more aware, he realized there was still that feeling... between his legs. He started, sitting up immediately, finding himself naked on a couch, with a man's head at his crotch. Milo's uncut cock stood at its full ten inches, throbbing with appreciation of the man's attentions.

"...Roderick?" he asked, recognizing the face. Then a headache suddenly swelled, and released a string of drunken memories involving the man's muscular body, and he smiled, a pained look in his eyes. "Oh dude... That is a helluva way to wake up. If I wasn't so hung over, I'd let you keep going," he added with a grimace.

"You got any coffee? Or another shot of Tequila, maybe?"

[ferinr]

@hortussecretum​ liked for a starter!

The beast got uncomfortable close to the stranger amber eyes burning holes into them. “You.... Gonna finish that?” They ask regarding the actual scraps on his plate. 

Without even waiting for a response they grab the plate and slides the scraps of skin and bones down her gullet, the sounds of loud crunching filling the room.

[mudskip-muses]

Closed RP - desbears

@desbears liked for a starter with Kaz! - (X)

The persistent clatter of metal paired with quick steps echoed through the courtyard of the academy, a blur of pink and yellow being it's source. Kazuichi had just returned from a nearby junkyard, having scrounged up various bits and bobbles he needed for his latest project. He was so excited to get started on it that he wasn't really watching where he was going, mind busy swimming with various ideas.

It seemed the same could be said for the ultimate gamer, if the force of their collision was anything to go by. The loud clatter of parts on the concrete was matched in level by the pain of his backside as Kaz landed hard on the ground. "Shit, sorry that was my bad, I wasn't paying attention!" Kazuichi scrambled to his feet, crunching something under his sneaker as he rushed to help Chiaki up. Hopefully it was nothing important, that would suck after all the work he went through to get this stuff. "Are you okay?"

[zorkaya-moved]

@soulcrux​

“Well, you did agree to this, so I’m just doing my part,” a charming smile was offered as she was looking at herself in the hand mirror, fixing her hair and applying some lipstick. The makeup was not needed that much, but she did apply some to underline her natural beauty - the only needs for her to make brighter were her eyelashes and her lips, people looked at one of those two besides what was exposed. However, it was important for people to concentrate on her face, and that’s why she made sure to look fantastic for the person who agreed to her terms. “Now, darling, anything you want to tell me before we head out? Like what I shouldn’t say to you to annoy? If we’re watched, better be prepared for everything~”

[ladyimaginarium]

tbh this should go without saying but just a casual reminder that native people, like any minority, do not all look and think the same, and they are certainly not a monolith.

Natives can have any skin color, whether that’s white passing, light skinned, tan skin, brown skin and dark skin, and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can have any natural eye color, be it brown, amber, blue, green or otherwise, and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can have any hair color, be it brown, black, blonde or red, or dyed any other unnatural hair color and hair texture, be it straight, wavy or curly, and any hairstyle, be it long, medium, short, traditional braids, pixie cuts, dyed bobs, blunt bangs, shaved heads, undercuts, fauxhawks, etc. and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can follow any religion and/or spirituality, there are Native people who follow their tribe’s traditional beliefs and nothing else, there’s also plenty of Native Christians, but Natives can also be Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, Satanist, Shintoist, Kemeticist, Wiccan, Hindu, Buddhist, Jain, Pagan, animist, Atheist, Agnostic, etc. and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be any gender, whether that’s male, female, both or neither, or Two Spirit, their tribe’s own specific names for those outside of the “gender binary”, or any other genders in Western terminology like trans, non-binary, genderfluid or agender, among others, if they so wish to use those terms, or mix them up, and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be any romantic and sexual orientation, whether that’s straight, gay, lesbian, bi, pan, poly, aro, ace, queer, etc. etc. and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be mixed with any race or ethnic group such as white passing Natives / Metis, Black / African Diaspora Natives, Central Asian Natives, East Asian Natives, East African Natives, Central African Natives, West African Natives, Southern African Natives, North African Natives, Mestizo Natives, Latinx Natives, Central American Natives, South American Natives, Caribbean Natives, Alaskan Natives, Greenlander Natives, Australian Natives, Southeast Asian Natives, South Asian Natives, Middle Eastern Natives, or indigenous in other ways too such as more than one Native ethnicity, Polynesian Natives, Inupiaq Natives, Inuit Natives, Micronesian Natives, Melanesian Natives, Eurasian Natives and Natives who have multiple ethnicities, who’re the children of interracial couples with mixed race parents ... and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be in any social class, whether that’s lower class, middle class or upper class and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be in any subculture, whether that’s anime, goth, punk, scene, lolita, grunge, or otherwise, and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can listen to any music genre, whether that’s their own tribe’s traditional music, country, rock, punk, hip hop, rap, etc. and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be born on a reservation, in a small town, in a suburb or in a big city, or even outside of their home country, and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be knowledgeable in their tribe’s culture/heritage, still reconnecting to it, or disconnected from it for many reasons, and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

Natives can be neurodivergent and/or disabled and that doesn’t make them any less Native.

There’s no one “Native look” and that Natives can dress however they want, wear their hair however they want, etc. etc. - one’s clothes aren’t what makes someone Native, one’s hair isn’t what makes someone Native, one’s coloration isn’t what makes someone Native and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s the connection and willingness to learn that matters.

There’s literally no reason why y’all can’t write modern Natives.

[whistleccncert-blog]

[ @girlsruies ] liked for a starter ♪ ♫

Blues was doing that thing where he was just pretending to be human. Things were-- a lot easier that way. A Lot. Tango was on his shoulder, purring mechanically before the catbot saw someone and bounded up to them, meowing up at them with interest.

He ran up after his cat and caught Tango, holding him in his arms.

[ ♫ ] : “Sorry-- he must’ve smelled somethin’ on you. Or saw somethin’ shiny. I dunno.”

[angelsangels]

    “Wh — OH !! An angel !! This must be an ... after Christmas  MIRACLE  !!  Those exist, right ? ”

               //   @ancgel   s.c