#you want to draw one of them in a dress? men can and do wear dresses

[morganas-pendragons]

My Word (Of The Lady of Eregion) | Celebrimbor

Post episode 5. Celebrimbor is beginning to come apart at the seams, and you are not having it.

tag: @thesolarangel @erebusbabylon @sailon-ishmael @ladyoflindon @pentaghasm @thatlittlered

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I’m hoping to write some more tomorrow!

***

You know something is wrong when Celebrimbor comes into the chamber you’ve taken rest in, expression contorted by fear and hands trembling uncontrollably at his sides.

“Celebrimbor?” Your voice draws him out of his panic, but you cannot help exiting the bed to settle by his side and cradle his hands in your own, pressing your lips to his knuckles. “What has happened?”

He has been swathed in darkness since the arrival. The Harbinger never ceases. It torments him, He torments him, in every moment.

Celebrimbor can only find safety with you. With you, it is quiet.

With you, there is no torment.

He is so tempted not to tell you. To spare you a glimpse into his fracturing mind, to simply indulge his selfish desires of hiding from the responsibility that Annatar has placed upon him.

Part of you wanted this, remember?

“Celebrimbor,” You repeat. He takes that moment to properly look at you: You are wearing a shift that is nearly sheer and sits nicely on your shoulders, hair loose around your face and far too much skin for him to ache to touch. Celebrimbor dares not to allow his thoughts to wander. He may be selfish, but what just happened in the forge must not be swept under the rug. “You did not make me your Lady unofficially without giving thought to the depths of the trust between yourself and I. Do not keep from me. What is wrong?”

It has been a long time since he has felt that helpless.

“Annatar wishes to make more rings.” Celebrimbor’s breathing gradually slows as he watches you separate each of his fingers, pressing a kiss to his fingertips while never daring to tear your eyes from his. You have been utilizing touch for quite some time now, but it has a completely different hold on Celebrimbor now. It is grounding. It clears the haze that has taken hold over his mind. “I refused.”

“I am failing to understand what has warranted such a reaction then.”

“He is to make them anyway. Rings for Men, as they were most susceptible to Morgoth’s influence.”

Your fingers absently trail across his jawline, eyes softening as Celebrimbor leans into the warmth of your palm. “That is absurd,” You snap sharply, not at him, but at the situation and the gall Annatar has to even attempt such a thing. “He cannot perform such an act without you. You are the Ringmaker.”

“Even the Ringmaker does not have the final say when the Valar are involved.” He says. Celebrimbor sighs and pulls you closer to him, practically pressed against every edge and crevice of his body so you cannot be pried away, so you are in every part of him.

You are tempted to continue to argue, to convince him of the truth that seems so clear to you but so muddled to the others who have been brought under Annatar’s influence.

“Come, my love.” You say softly. You try to hide the concern in your voice as you smooth your hands over his shoulders. “Let us be rid of these.”

Celebrimbor dipped his head and lifted his arms to allow you to remove his apron and robes. Once he was dressed in his night attire, he lifted his head high enough to find your face inches away from his own, bright eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the bedroom as they shift down to his lips.

He crosses the distance first. Kissing you is like breathing the air that his lungs have been so deprived of, inhaling that sweet, comforting feeling of safety and love that dwells within the very heart of you.

“My dear, you bring me such peace.” Celebrimbor says softly. You open your mouth to reply and find yourself distracted by the rustle of footsteps outside the door. Light, barely perceptible, but undoubtedly belonging to one of the remaining smiths returning to the forge. “I believe it is time for me to retire. Will you join me?”

Something heavy settles in your stomach as your eyes shift back to the hallway. “I must take care of something first,” You murmur softly. “Settle into the bed. I will join you once the hour of the Wolf has fallen.”

“Wait,” His fingers wrap around your wrist as you grasp your robes in the other hand. “Do you remember the promise I made to you?”

“That you would always remain. Never to leave, never to be taken away. That I would be taken care of.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes gleam in the moonlight as he nods. Something settles between the two of you, like a weight that threatens to widen the gap that has been created by Annatar’s arrival. It scares you. You should be coming together, not further apart.

“I will do everything in my power to keep it,” Celebrimbor says. “Hurry back. I will be waiting.”

You are out the door before he can say anything else. You cannot bear to look at him again, not with the unease settling into your stomach as you soundlessly head down the hall toward its source.

***

After calming Celebrimbor within your chambers, you stride out the main door toward the forge where you know Annatar to be. The Lord of Gifts is in conversation with Mirdania. Your dearest friend, clever as she is, is also incredibly impressionable. You refuse to let her be influenced by the likes of the snake who dwells within the nest.

“Mirdania.”

Mirdania is also one of the few elves who is aware that Celebrimbor intends to propose to you, to officially give you the title of Lady of Eregion. Celebrimbor has bestowed this title upon you himself, but the marriage between you and the Greatest of the Elven Smiths would solidify this arrangement.

“My Lady!” She exclaims. The younger elleth jumps away from Annatar as if he has burned her, cheeks tinging pink as she crosses the forge to meet you. “My apologies. I did not notice the hour.”

Your eyes slowly shift behind her to Annatar. “You are free to return to your home for the evening, dear friend. Be at peace.” Mirdania bows lowly in reply and scurries out of the forge, leaving you alone with Annatar. Despite the heat that radiates from the fires within, you cannot help but feel the bone-deep chill that resides within. “For the time you require of him before and after the hour of the Wolf, Lord Celebrimbor will be otherwise indisposed.”

“And why is it you delivering this information?”

“As is the role that was bestowed on me, I deliver Lord Celebrimbor’s correspondence and see to matters of the city,” You reply. You still will not grant him the satisfaction of being under his spell, of meeting his eyes and granting him basic respect. “Which is what you are.”

If anything, Annatar is quite impressed at how you seem to exude a confidence and defiance against all he has done to warp the reality around him. To turn Celebrimbor and the elves against one another. To make them distrust their Lord.

You are the only one not affected.

“And under the authority of whom do you speak?”

Cold, unyielding grey eyes meet his as you turn around to acknowledge him. “By the word of The Lady of Eregion, my Lord,” You say sharply. “My word holds as much claim as his does. And as that is so, may I also dismiss you for the eve, as the hour is late and the rings are of no importance as of right now. Goodnight.”

Your robes sweep against the floor as you turn to depart and return to where you left Celebrimbor. Your heart lays fast asleep in a bed that is not his own, breathing deep and dreams peaceful as you climb in behind him and press your face into his hair.

Celebrimbor has never broken a promise to you since you arrived in Eregion.

You do not believe he will start now.

[vintage-bentley]

Before you draw or write Aziraphale and Crowley as a straight couple, ask yourself this: why can’t they be a gay couple? What does them being straight bring to the scene that them being gay can’t? Why do you feel that erasing a gay couple improves this scene? Do you, on some level, feel that there is something superior about straight couples? If not, why are you even considering changing a gay couple into a straight couple in the first place?

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Treatment Plan

Last night was supposed to be harmless New Year’s Eve fun, partying with friends, dancing with strangers, and maybe finding someone to ring in the new year with. I remember dancing and taking shots with a really hot guy at some club where we'd shared a new year kiss. There's nothing else in my memory and I don’t remember when I passed out but I wake up alone in a medical examination room, naked, gagged, and strapped down to a bed with my arms above my head and legs spread wide.

The door opens and four men walk in. The first one I recognize is the hot guy I'd made out with. Except now, he has the look of a doctor, dressed in a white coat, wearing a stethoscope and holding a clipboard. The other three men are wearing nurses scrubs and not a single one acknowledges me as they step into the room and close the door behind them.

The doctor glances down at his clipboard and looks at me, smirking slightly. “It says here you’ve been admitted due to your issues with obedience and self-control. I promise we deliver the best results here, so you, darling, will be in tip-top shape in no time,” his voice is tinged with mockery and I try to shake my head and explain that this is all a mistake, that I have no idea what is going on, and I’m not supposed to be here.

“Day one of this treatment regimen helps us establish a baseline of what we’re working with and involves some sensory deprivation just to enhance the effectiveness but I promise, you’ll enjoy it,” he purrs, coming to stand next to my head before sliding a piece of fabric over my eyes. I struggle uselessly against the bindings, trying to dislodge the blindfold but it’s too secure to move. I feel hands hold my head in place before someone else slides headphones over my ears and suddenly, I’m blind and deaf to the world.

There is nothing to prepare me for what comes next, and no way that I can have any ability to sense what they plan to do to me. I can feel tears pricking at my eyes, absorbing into the blindfold when suddenly, I feel fingers trail along my ribs.

I let out a muted whimper, my body instinctively lurching in response. The feeling is so overwhelming and I’m absolutely senseless and helpless. The fingers linger around my hips and dig in gently, making me jerk uselessly in my bindings. It’s almost too much for my body to handle, the unknown touches, the horrible anticipation and suspense of not knowing anything at all.

Without warning, the fingers dig harder into my ribs, tickling me harshly and mercilessly. I wail behind the gag and thrash desperately, begging for it to stop to no avail. The fingers don’t let up and my entire world has narrowed to the unbearable sensations those fingers are drawing out of my bound body. There’s nothing I can do except endure it.

My wails have died down to little mindless whimpers as the tickling continues to ravage my ribs and hips when I feel the fingers pull away finally. I gasp for air, hoping that this torture is finally going to be over. Suddenly, I feel fingers brush against my underarms and I scream so hard my throat feels raw. I’m yanking and pulling at the straps holding me down but I’m bound too tightly. Tears are flowing freely into the blindfold as my body jerks. The fingers dig devastatingly into my underarms and I’m inconsolable. The tickling feels like electricity going straight into my nerves and it makes my mind hazy.

There’s no mercy and no stopping. The fingers find every vulnerable spot on my body and there’s nothing to stop the wretched tickling that’s making me want to curl into myself and disappear. There’s no acclimation to the feeling or becoming desensitized to it all. Every single movement feels like my body is dancing on a live wire and I have no choice but to experience every devastating feeling.

Another set of fingers finds their way to my hard nipples and I can barely draw in enough air to scream as the stimulation adds to the overwhelming feelings crashing through my body. Flicks against my nipples make me squirm and moan.

Then, my world lights up behind my blindfold when I feel fingers on my clit.

The combination of tickling at every sensitive spot on my body and the focus on my clit shatters me. Every single nerve is pulled open and vulnerable to unforgiving, relentless stimulation and I know I’m dripping wet onto the bed under me. It’s all too much for my brain to process. Every force on my body pushes me closer and closer to an orgasm and it’s unbearable.

A sudden flash of pain hits my clit as someone’s fingers sharply pinch my throbbing button and I wail as my orgasm barrels through my body. None of the stimulation lets up and the fingers on my clit continue to force waves of pleasure through my body while fingers everywhere else drive my orgasm even higher. I’m delirious and barely coherent between all of the different assaults of stimulation that wrack my body.

I feel the fingers on my clit pull away and I’m gasping and shaking. The tickling at my ribs and underarms doesn’t relent and I can barely catch my breath enough to sustain my sobs. Fingers brush against my inner thighs and I can’t help but whine, hearing only my wild heartbeat thudding in my ears.

Suddenly, there’s a vibrator slammed against my clit and my mind breaks. There are too many things going on but my whole being is driven to focus on the horrible vibrator pillaging my clit with no mercy. My next orgasm shoots through me with no warning, no build up, no gentle waves of pleasure. Just pure ecstasy shooting deep through my body, so hard that I can feel it in my bones and it renders me completely broken.

I have no concept of time or place as the torture continues. My body moves on its own accord as it struggles and trembles, futilely trying to avoid every touch. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours when everything finally fades away and all of the hands touching me are gone. I lie there, limp, unmoving, unthinking, barely conscious. It takes me an immeasurable amount of time to catch my breath, my body still feeling phantom aftershocks of pleasure and torment. I vaguely register the feeling of someone pulling the headphones off of my head and I’m able to hear again.

“Oh darling,” his voice is the first thing I recognize, “I suppose I forgot to mention, this treatment regimen has ten levels. And we can’t move on from level one until you learn to control your body and keep still during your treatments. Clearly we’re not going to get there today, but perhaps you’ll do better tomorrow. Otherwise, you’re in for a very long stay here…”

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello!

I wanted to ask a question, if that's okay. So, I'm genderfluid afab and feel like a man sometimes (probably more often than I allow myself to realise). I don't have access to a Binder or anything of that sort (transphobic parents).

Is there any way for me to look/be more masculine? I'm a bit scared of goggling because I don't want to accidentally take advice from Tate people or the like.

(PS. I really like your Siegfried Farnon cosplay!)

Heya!

This is a tough one to answer. Because "masculine" means different things to different people. And "passing", as well.

Like. When I wear my fleece jacket and baseball cap, I'm deliberately passing as a certain type of man. But I felt more masculine the other day wearing an ascot.

So, I think we need to break down this question:

1) If you're looking to pass, there are going to be trans masc guides out there that will direct you to a very particular gender presentation. They tend to assume you are white and skinny. They present themselves as a list of Dos and Do-Nots, and at the end of the day, do more harm than good, imo. Because passing guides are almost always about hiding parts of yourself physically, often to the expense of hiding parts of your psyche.

Seek them out if you must, but when it comes to passing for safety, all I can suggest is ambiguous layers, a hat, keeping your head down and your mouth shut. The best way to pass is to not draw attention to yourself, alas.

2) If you're looking to dress more masculine to alleviate gender dysphoria, then you need to drill down to what makes you dysphoric and start there. My smaller feet is one area of contention for me, so I look for semi-dressy shoes that look long and elegant (like Taft boots). Since you can't get a binder, consider layers, if your chest bothers you.

3) If you're looking to dress more masculine to seek gender euphoria, then figure out your aesthetic masculine ideal. Make a pinboard of Looks you enjoy and see if there are trends. Some folks are drawn to athletic wear. Work wear. Perhaps a vintage aesthetic -- Rockabilly. 90s grunge. 1940s British country vet (meeeee, lol).

Ask yourself: What are the hallmarks of this style? Are there casual and formal versions? How does it change seasonally? How much of it is clothing and how much of it is the body (haircut, being muscular, etc)? And above all - what is this style trying to communicate to others?

Once done, see what sort of fashion tips are out there for your style. Who are the fashion experts and how much do you care about their advice? (Menswear guy has great tips about how a modern suit "should" fit, but a lot of his advice is also personal preference with a big dollop of classism.)

Pay close attention to how men wear their clothes -- where they sit on the body, how they style the outfit. Compare how a man is styled in your preferred look to how a woman is styled and see what that sparks in you. How much of it is the clothing or body? How much is posture? You might discern some visual shorthand you can harness to be read as more masculine. You might also come up with ways to have plausible deniability around your parents by being able to pivot a masculine look to be more feminine, when needed.

After all this research, get yourself to a thrift shop or other second hand option and start experimenting. Buying actual men's clothing is probably going to be your best bet, but depending on your Look Book, that may not always be the case.

No one can tell you how to feel more masculine -- that really needs to come from within. Once you figure that out, then it's a matter of reconciling your ideal look with the peculiarities of your body. (And all men have their own challenges wrt the fit of clothes.)

Afford yourself as much grace as possible when it comes to your body. And again, remember that feeling more masculine and passing more masculine may not always overlap and could even be at odds. And only you can determine if and when that is a problem.

[holylulusworld]

A perfect gentleman

Summary: Your trip to Great Britain changed your life forever.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warning: bitchy friends, mentions of anxiety, meet cute, sex with a stranger, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, public sex, shower sex

You bobbed your head to the song blaring from the loudspeakers. It was the only thing you could do. That, and watching the others dance with men they just met. Grinding into them – their intentions clear.

Maybe you are not the most social person, but being in a place with so many people spiked your anxiety.

You shuddered and ripped your gaze from your friends to order another drink. Something light. You never were much into alcohol.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” a man plopped down next to you and dipped his head. “How can I help you relax?” He purred and moved his hand to your thigh.

“You could start by stopping to touch her,” another man suddenly stood behind your back. He pushed the other guy off you and glared at the stranger touching you. “Is that the way to welcome tourists now?”

“Man, she looked lonely,” the man grunted but made space for the second guy. “Didn’t know you called dips on her already, Raymond.”

“Get lost,” Raymond snapped at the man. You flinched and tried to make yourself as small as possible while the men fought. “We don’t harass ladies at my favorite place.”

“Alright, alright,” the man huffed. “She’s not worth the effort. You can have her.”

“Hey, are you okay,” Raymond softly asked. He must’ve been from around, because of his sexy accent. You always had a thing for men with an accent. “I hope he didn’t hurt you. Some guys shouldn’t drink too much.”

“Uh-thank you,” you murmured and finally looked at the man. Raymond looked like you imagine a British gentleman, but with a dash of roughness and something hidden behind his neat appearance. 

He was wearing a navy-blue corduroy waistcoat, a slim tie with the same color, and a light blue and white striped button-down over dark wash slim-fit stretch jeans. His hair was neatly gelled back, and his beard was long but well-trimmed. Orange-rimmed clear lens glasses framed his handsome face.

“That was very nice of you.”

“A gentleman must protect a lady in need,” he grinned and sat next to you. “Let me buy you a drink for the inconvenience, and for not stepping in sooner.”

“You came the moment the man put his hand on my thigh,” you shyly glanced at Raymond. He offered his name to you and held out his hand. You placed your hand in his, feeling another shudder run through your body. This man was unlike any guy you ever met.

He screamed danger but acted like a gentleman. You could smell weed on his clothes when he leaned closer to ask you for your name. 

“Y/N,” you replied and allowed him to hold your hand for a little longer than needed. He ran his thumb over your skin, causing a tiny whimper to escape your lips. “Thank you again.”

“What brings you here, love?” Raymond leaned impossibly closer, letting you feel his warmth. “I assume you are a tourist.”

You chuckled. “What gave me away?” 

“Your accent, and I know every pretty girl in town.”He laid it on thick when he purred your name and told you that you look beautiful in your dress. He already had you when he saved you from the grabby guy, but you wanted to bask in his compliments for a little longer.

“Every single one,” you chuckled. “You’re a very busy man in that case.” 

He adjusted his glasses and smirked. “I don’t know every woman like that.” Raymond gave you a wink. “But I’d like to get to know you better.”

“My friends are still somewhere at this place,” you leaned closer to drink his appearance and scent in. You were enchanted by this man. “Probably rubbing themselves against the guys they just met.”

His eyes sparkled at your words. You were about to do the same with him. Why – you had no clue. He was handsome and charming. But there was something else drawing you in like the moth to the flame.

“Do you want to leave this place?” A question was not in his words when he got up, still holding your hand. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t make it far. Before you knew it, you left the bar with Raymond. You ended up pressed into the wall in the dark alley behind the bar. 

He was all over you, lips devouring your mouth the moment you were out of sight. His hand slipped between your thighs, finding your panties soaked. He teased you for your floral cotton panties, moving the fabric aside to shove a finger inside your soaked cunt.

Raymond lifted you off of your feet, and you ended up in his arms, your pussy stuffed to the brim with his thick cock. 

“Fuck, this is a tight little cunt,” he puffed into your neck. Hot breath fanning over your skin. “You’ve been a good girl, huh? How many guys did you fuck behind a bar so far?”

“No one,” you held tight onto Raymond as he slowly rocked into you. “Only you.”

“You’re so good for me, love,” he whispered in your ear as he mercilessly battered your cunt. He was not a gentle lover any longer. Raymond fucked up into you, all the while holding your body safe in his arms. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

“Aw, baby love,” he crashed his lips onto yours to silence your moans. “You met the right man to ruin you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to move your hips.

“Ruin me. Do it. I’m done being the good girl.”

“Why did you leave without us?” One of your friends asked. Janice walked inside your shared hotel room, smirking as you were reading another book. “Y/N we are on vacation. Stop reading and go out there. There is a whole new world to explore.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’ll get some dick too if you stop hiding,” your other friend snapped at you. She didn’t get lucky last night and tried to let her anger out on you. Chanel always gets lucky. Just not last night.

“Oh, I think you will have enough fun for all of us,” you hid that you were the one getting a perfect dick last night. Well, they wouldn’t have believed you. You never take a risk. This includes fucking a stranger behind a bar. “Don’t forget to wrap it before you let any dick get near you.”

 “It’s their job,” Janice huffed. “I only need my lipstick and nothing else.”

You bit your tongue. Last night you were the one making sure that you didn’t take a bigger risk. Raymond was all too eager to fill you, but you insisted on protection. Even though you were a horny mess wanting nothing more than to feel him bare inside of you.

“Have fun reading,” Janice snapped at you. “We are going to meet up with some girls we met last night and tonight, we’re going back to the bar. Tonight, I’ll get lucky and fuck a British guy!”

“Don’t wait for us to come back today. You’re no fun to be around since you and Ransom broke up,” Chanel added. A low blow to your fragile heart.

With your friends gone, you had the time to enjoy the city. You explored the usual spots tourists would seek out and ended up in a nice little café to have a break.

It was close to your hotel, and you could enjoy the sun as long as you wanted to. 

At least no one tried to hit on you here or called you boring for enjoying your tea and biscuits.

“This must be fate,” a familiar voice said. Raymond stopped short in his tracks when he recognized you. “What brings you here?”

“I was—” You licked your lips at the sight of Raymond. Today he was wearing a soft camel tan shawl cardigan and a skinny burgundy tie over his dark wash jeans. He looked as perfect as ever when he claimed the empty chair on your table, “having a break from exploring town.”

“Sightseeing,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I see.” Raymond eyed you up and down in your simple shirt, cardigan, and a pair of worn-out jeans. “I could give you the Smith tour to show you all the secret spots no tourist ever saw.”

“Smith tour?” You wrinkled your forehead.

“That’s my surname, sweetness,” he smirked and nodded at the waitress to order tea and biscuits himself. “Do you want to go on that tour with me?”

“Sure,” you said a little too fast. He was still a stranger, but you let him fuck you twice last night. What else could he want? You were sure he wouldn’t hurt you and having the chance to fuck him again had you already dripping. “I’d love to see more than the usual spots.”

You didn’t see much of town. All Raymond showed you was his large, luxurious estate where he lives by himself. And you didn’t see much of it either. 

Raymond had you pinned to his mattress; his cock buried balls deep inside of your dripping cunt moments after he guided you inside his home. 

“Shit, look at you,” he purred before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “I could get used to having you like this. Underneath me, filled with my cock.” He kissed you again, softer this time. “Bare.”

He rocked his hips at a slow pace, dragging his thick cock along your walls. Raymond smirked as you dug your fingertips into his back.

“Raymond,” you whimpered his name. “Please.”

“Fuck, say my name again,” he buried his face in your neck to nip at your soft spot. “Now,” Raymond growled your name and gave you a particularly hard thrust. “Sweetness.”

“Raymond.”

“Again,” he snapped his hips into yours. “NOW!”

“RAYMOND!” You screamed his name on the top of your lungs. “RAYMOND!” You chanted it like a prayer. “Please.”

“Fucking take it,” Raymond whispered in your ear. “You’re meant to lie underneath me, my cock in your sweet pussy.” He slowly fucked into you, taking his time to enjoy having you again. “All I was thinking about was your cunt. I could smell you on me all day.”

Your arousal coated his cock with every thrust. It soaked the sheets underneath you, ruining the fine fabric you admired before you ended up on his bed. 

“You’re mine now,” he threatened, his voice a deep growl as he kept on fucking you into the mattress. “Say it.”

He stopped moving and stared at you underneath him. “Say it!”

“’m yours, Ray…”

He kissed you again, sweet but dirty. His tongue delved into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you ate earlier.

“Yes. Fuck.” You started to clench around him and tremble underneath Raymond. “Please.”

“Ohhh…fuck,” he thrusted into you, ignoring that you cried out his name. Raymond simply fucked you through your high, rhythm never faltering as you threw your head left and right. It sounded cliché, or like bad porn. But right at that moment it was all you could do because he just felt too good inside of your body. “That’s it.”

“Come inside of me, please,” you pleaded. “NOW!”

Fuck…He thought and exploded inside of your quivering cunt. Raymond didn’t stop. He trusted in and out of you, making an even bigger mess of his sheets. 

“That was,” you sighed when he slipped out of you to lie next to you. Raymond panted, and you patted his chest when he gasped for air.

“I know, sweetness.”

“Thank you for making my vacation much more interesting,” you laughed as he crawled back on top of you to kiss you softly and gently. 

“Thank you for making my shitty week better.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Smith.”

His shower was amazing. Just like the rest of his home. It was huge, and the rain showerhead was something else.

Not that you got the chance to enjoy it much. The warm water barely had the time to run down your body before Raymond was all over you again.

He stood behind you to nip at your earlobe with his teeth. His skilled hands cupped your tits, and you fell back against his chest.

“Still not enough?” He chuckled at your words. “You're insatiable.

“You’re just too cute to ignore.” He watched you turn around to cup his face to kiss him. “What are you up to, sweetness?”

“I’d love to fuck you again,” you purred his name and ran your hands over his chest. “What are you up to?”

Raymond smirked, and you knew you were in for a rougher treatment. He twirled you around, barking orders at you. “Hands against the wall.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re playing with fire,” he was on you again, to manipulate your body. He gripped your hip with one hand and guided his weeping cock into your dripping pussy. “But I’ll not stop you from being a perfect little cockslut for me.”

You hissed but welcomed his length like an old friend. “You feel too good inside of me, is all.”

“Yeah,” he kissed your neck. “How good? Good enough to spend the rest of your vacation with me.”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation. To hell with your friends, sightseeing, and biscuits. All you wanted to do is spend time impaled on Raymond’s cock.

“I knew it,” he breathed into your neck. “You’re perfect.”

Raymond nipped at your neck while slinging his arms around your waist.

“My little lost tourist.” He slowly but steadily pumped into you. “Lucky me getting inside this sweet body.”

“Oh, yes,” The warm water gently rained down on you and Raymond, and your wet bodies slid easily against one another. “Fuck, please.”

“Same, sweetness,” he growled as you started to push back onto his length. Raymond was close to losing all control. He pressed you against the wall, pumping into you with all the strength he had left in him. 

You slammed the palms of your hand against the shower wall feeling your high ripple through your body. You were panting heavily, and your knees buckled when he emptied himself inside of you. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Raymond grunted into the phone. He watched you turn around in your sleep to snuggle into his pillow. “I want you to tell me where to pick her things up. Y/N wants to spend the rest of her vacation with me, not you.”

He groaned as your friends bombarded him with questions. His patience was wearing thin, and he was close to sending one of his problem solvers to get your belongings.

“Listen, all you need to know is that she’s safe with me. No…I won’t send you a picture of her.” Cursing loudly, he looked at you.

“Give me the phone,” you yawned, and rubbed your tired eyes. “They won’t believe you, Ray.”

“Fine,” he handed you your phone, waiting for you to confirm that he’s not some psycho kidnapper holding you hostage. Even though, his cock twitched when he imagined keeping you at his home forever.

“Janice, relax,” you tried to calm your friend. “I met Raymond two days ago at the bar. Yeah, where you left me all alone. We met again at a café, and I spent the last two days with him at his home. I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer so, I believed you don’t give a shit about me and if I’m still alive.”

Janice muttered into the phone, but you didn’t care. You told her to pack your things and hand them to whoever Raymond will send to them.

One week later you sat on his couch, snuggled into one of the blankets he offered to you. “You’ve got a nice home,” you said and smiled. It pained you that in not a week you had to leave this wonderful place and the man owning it. “Maybe I can come back here one day.”

“Or,” he sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, “I just keep you here forever.” Raymond nuzzled his face in your neck. “I heard you quit your job, left your boyfriend, and are looking for adventure.”

“What? I-“ you spluttered. “How did you find out?”

“Your friends are rather talkative,” he shrugged and moved his hand between your legs. “I got a big home, and a good job waiting for you. I know this is sudden, but I’d love to keep you around. What do you say?”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

Alright, alright, I know I’ve already shown you the Last Drop, so here we’re looking at the one from the alternate timeline, as seen in Episode 7. The elements and layout don’t change too much, but there are variations, and since my story is set in this universe, I imagine this version is the most helpful for anyone wanting to explore the universe I write about. The link to the story is HERE, but I hope this can also be useful for anyone writing or reading their own work.

Here we are once again! This tour might be a bit challenging, but don’t worry—your guide has got you covered! This time, we need to start outside.

I know we all recognize the exterior of the bar, which hasn’t changed, but I ask you to take a closer look at the streets. They’re clean and bathed in sunlight. (The Last Drop is in the Entresol, the middle level of Zaun’s three depth levels.) While it may seem almost normal or expected, the smog that used to accumulate made it impossible for light to filter through the thick air, even during the day. As a result, the underground city never got to see this much light. This is the first time.

In Heimerdinger’s sequence where he’s seen playing "Spin the Wheel," we can catch glimpses of glass greenhouses protecting plants, and people in wheelchairs, hinting that the city is now more accessible.

This is the third post where I’ve mentioned this damn ceiling, so I went back just to show it to you, because it was necessary at this point. Let’s start with the fact that the Last Drop has been renovated. The fact that Ekko is wearing a gold earring and is so well-dressed suggests that their profits have increased, and the first thing they did was fix up the place. But enough talk—let’s get to the proof. Now that natural light reaches Zaun, the LED lights on the ceiling aren’t needed anymore. What is needed? Glass, to let the light in.

And so, we move on to another small but significant difference. Scattered throughout the Last Drop, but especially at the bar counter, there are terrariums with plants. Claggor and Mylo are even working on plants capable of converting the dense air of the Sump into clean oxygen. But why do plants have such prominence here? In Season 1, we’re shown that in Zaun, only one place had plants: the Chembarons' meeting room. It was so high up and so clean, thanks to the ventilation on the ceiling, that plants were a privilege of the oligarchy, not something for everyone. But here, even ordinary people in Zaun have plants around, and they thrive.

The bar counter remains the same, the barrels behind Vander are still protected by the same glass partitions as always. The difference now is that everything is adorned with what used to be a symbol of luxury.

Did you recognize these booths? Now, instead of the Chembarons' photos, there are sheets with dart game scores written on them—both for the kids and the three older men. To be honest, the one I’m showing you in the photo from Zaun’s original timeline is actually the first booth on the left from the entrance. Meanwhile, the one shown where the kids are sitting is the second booth, a bit closer to both the bar counter and the narrow hallway that leads to the arcade area and the pool table.

Which ones? These. Actually... this photo was taken in front of the first booth, and we can see Powder's drawings hanging there. Basically, we understand that they’re portraits of all of them together, happy. Maybe some are solo portraits, but they’re definitely very different from how things are now. (the comparison)

I imagine that the basement where Vander and his children used to live is now the place where they store alcohol and reserve drinks, or maybe it has become a boiler room. We don’t have photos of the lower area (which, I remind you, can be accessed by taking the door to the right of the bar counter and going down a long staircase) nor of the upper area, which is reached by climbing the stairs to the left. So, I can’t show you more parts of our beloved bar, but I can tell you that according to what we’re told in episode 7, they now offer both live music and events. So, the Last Drop has continued both Vander’s family-oriented, rustic management and Silco’s vision of a nightlife hub and heart of the city.

As for the rest—how we got to this point, what brought the change, how Silco's eye healed, how they managed to reach such an economic development to renovate the bar in that way—I can only speculate. But, I won’t do that here.

The theme of the universe’s development from episode 7, starting with Vi’s death, is what I talk about in my fanfiction. So, I’ll take a moment to advertise myself during this tour and let you know that if, in addition to the objective facts, you'd like to hear my opinion, I address it HERE (Everytime it rains).

From these three tours, I think you've gathered that I’m someone who pays a lot of attention to details, which is why a superficial analysis of the differences wasn't enough for me. I needed a bigger space to narrate (and analyze) the politics and the domino effect of events. So, I don't know, I hope to see you again at the bar.

Sincerely, your guide, provided by...

-Kiramman's chronocare

[candycandy00]

Bad Boy - A Togame Jo x Reader Fanfic

Your town is controlled by two gangs: Shishitoren and Bofurin. With a taste for danger, you love to sneak over to the Shishitoren side, where you spot a handsome dark haired stranger rumored to be a violent and dangerous gang member. But he doesn’t seem so bad to you. 

Smut. 18+. Gang AU. Busty Fem Reader. Togame is in his mid 20’s. Bondage. Oral. Rough sex. Reader is sexually aggressive and a tease. Divider by @benkeibear.

You first met Togame at the festival being held on the temple grounds. You’d come from the other end of town to hang out with your friend, and you were carrying a frozen treat in a cup made of paper. You bumped into someone tall, and your frozen treat smashed into his chest. You apologized, he gave you a curt nod, and that was it. 

You turned and looked back at him as he walked over to a food stall to talk to the person running it. From the way he was dressed, you would assume that he worked at the temple. He had dark hair worn longer than most other men his age (early twenties if you were guessing) and striking green eyes. 

He was entirely your type.

“Don’t even think about it,” your friend said when she noticed you staring. 

You didn’t pry your eyes away even as you answered, “Why not?”

“His name’s Togame. He’s with the Shishitoren gang. Pretty high up in the ranks too. He’s well known for being violent, even with other members of the gang. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

You were still watching him as he left the stall and walked further away. “A bad boy, huh?”

Your friend grabbed your wrist to get your attention. “Hey, listen to me! You better stay away from him! They say he shows no mercy to his own guys. What do you think he would do to you if he knew you have ties to the Bofurin?”

You gave her a grin. “No idea, but you’ve got me curious now.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna end up dead one of these days. You take a huge risk every time you come to this side of town.”

Her voice kept going, but you were not really listening. She might think this Togame guy is a big scary gang member, but she didn’t see what you saw. She didn’t see his face flush pink when your body brushed against his. Something tells you he’d be very fun to play with. 

************************

When Togame found a couple of his guys cornering a college girl in an alley, he stopped to see what was going on. 

One of them turns to him. “She’s from the other side. Her cousin is in Bofurin!”

Togame wonders what could possess her to reveal such information, but the cat’s out of the bag now. She’s an intruder on their territory, and they can’t just let her go. 

“I’ll handle it,” he says, and the other two back away, revealing the hottest girl he’s ever seen. Everything from her shape to her hair to her eyes, to the way she stands there like a tasty lamb among wolves, draws his eye. Her skirt is way too short and her shirt, with tiny straps to hold it up, is way too tight. To his embarrassment, it’s very clear that she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Come with me,” he tells her, keeping his voice smooth and controlled. He’s silently praying she doesn’t resist. If he has to manhandle her, he’s going to end up humiliating himself by popping a boner. 

She looks up at him innocently. “Oh no, are you taking me captive?” 

Something about her voice makes him think she’s definitely not innocent. “I’ll take you back to our base. Then we can decide what to do with a Bofurin interloper.”

She purses her glossy lips in obviously fake concern. “I hope you’ll be gentle with me!”

He tries to ignore the way her huge tits strain against her shirt, the way her hard nipples protrude as one thin strap falls off her shoulder. 

“We’ll see,” he says, turning his back to her and walking toward the Ori, counting on her to follow. She clearly has some plan in mind, so he might as well see where this goes. 

No one else is there at this hour, but he still takes her into one of the small side rooms. It was probably a break room for employees at some point. There are a few small chairs and one table that looks like it could break at any moment. 

Just to be safe, he sits her in a chair and uses a discarded cord to tie her hands behind her. Whatever her game is, she’s definitely trouble, and he doesn’t need her slipping away to cause problems. 

She squirms a bit in the chair. “Did you bring me to this abandoned building so you could have your way with me?”

He blinks. “Uh, no?”

She’s actually pouting! She wiggles a bit, pretending to pull at the cord. “But I’m all tied up and so helpless! You could do anything you want to me and I couldn’t stop you.”

He sighs, already getting a headache. This has to be some kind of trap or trick. “Right now, all I want to do is talk,” he tells her. “Why did you come to this side of town? If your cousin is in Bofurin, you must know you’re in enemy territory.”

She smiles at him. “I’ve heard you’re really important over here,” she says, completely avoiding the question. “Apparently you’re a bad guy. Violent. Scary.”

He can’t really deny it. Those words could definitely describe him at times, when he has to step up and take care of unpleasant business. He doesn’t enjoy it, and would much rather live a peaceful life. But he has a talent for inflicting violence on others, and he’s had to put that talent to use many times while weeding out traitors to the gang or fighting their enemies. He’s well aware of the reputation he’s fostered in town, which is why most women avoid him. 

“And what if I am?” he asks the woman in front of him. 

Her eyes seem to light up with excitement, but she feigns fear again. “Then it looks like I’m in the lion’s den. Will you eat me alive?”

His eyes rove up and down her body, and he has to literally will himself not to blush. She’s certainly tantalizing. 

As she squirms around in the chair, her skirt slides up her thighs. She gasps in mock surprise. “Oh no, my skirt’s riding up! With my hands tied I can’t even pull it back down! This is so embarrassing, especially since I’ve misplaced my panties. If it rides up any more, you’ll see everything!”

If he’d been drinking anything, he would have comically spit it out. Instead, his eyes go wide and he swiftly turns his back to her before she can see how red his face is. 

He’s never even thought about tearing a woman’s clothes off and fucking her raw until she’s a crying mess before, but this woman is going to turn him into a beast. He has to get it together! 

Togame takes a moment to compose himself, to construct a calm and collected persona and keep it on. If there’s one thing he’s good at besides beating the shit out of people, it’s pretending to be something he’s not. 

He turns back around, and she’s looking at him with hungry eyes. Her legs are spread slightly apart, the fabric of her skirt just barely covering her. If it slides up even one more inch, he’ll get an eyeful. 

“Wow, I just noticed how tall you are,” she says. “With me being in this little chair, my face is at just the right height, huh?”

Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t had a whole lot of experience with women (and what little he had was back in high school), but he doesn’t realize what she means. “The right height for what?”

She giggles, probably amused by his naivety, and says, “For shoving your cock in my mouth.”

Ah, fuck, now that she’s said it, he can’t help picturing her plump, shiny lips stretched around the base of his cock as she chokes on it. He tries to clear his mind, to ignore all the lewd thoughts invading his brain, but they just keep marching in. And of course, he’s rapidly growing hard. His loose pants should keep it from being obvious though. He hopes. 

He decides to try a different tactic. Maybe she won’t be so coy if he intimidates her a little. 

Stepping right up to her, he looms over her bound form. Someone so much smaller than him should definitely be afraid. Especially someone aware of his reputation. He slams one hand down on the back of the chair, right beside her shoulder, and says in his most threatening tone, “Why did you come here? What game are you playing?”

She looks up at him, her skin flushed, her lips parted. Holy shit, she looks horny! Does she get off on danger or what? 

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, and for the first time her voice doesn’t have that phony damsel in distress tone. 

“Just tell me,” he says, still leaning over her. 

She hesitates, then takes a breath. “You probably don’t remember, but I bumped into you at the festival a few days ago. I got my ice cream all over you.”

He does remember, but he’d been so flustered by the feel of soft tits brushing against him that he hadn’t looked at the woman’s face. “That was you?”

She nods. “My friend told me about you, how you’re in Shishitoren and you’re so dangerous. I watched you for a little while and thought you were hot. So I started hanging around over here in the hopes that I could meet you.”

He feels himself getting red again, but he doesn’t turn around this time. “So you’ve met me. What do you want from me?”

She opens her legs a little more in the chair, her skirt edging up. Fuck, he really is going to see everything. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asks with a cat like grin. “I want you to wreck me.”

That’s it. He can’t take anymore. If she really wants him that badly, then he’ll fuck that smug grin right off her pretty face. 

Even if he’s blushing like a schoolboy while he does it. 

**************************

You know exactly what you’re doing. You had this all planned out after all. You want Togame, and you intend to have him. But even with that in mind, you’re still surprised when he suddenly pulls out a massive cock, already hard and leaking, and does exactly what you suggested earlier: shoves it into your hot wet mouth. 

He groans as he pushes it all the way in, gripping your hair for leverage, burying your nose in his soft, curly black pubic hair. Oh god, he’s so big, and so forceful, you’re already drenched. 

He’s halfway down your throat, making you gag and sputter around his cock, holding your head in place so you can’t pull back. Ahh, this is why you love bad guys. Tease them enough and they’ll fucking ruin you.  

But you’ve seen enough to realize Togame is not all that he seems. The way he reddens and gets flustered is just so cute! So when you look up at him, tears stinging your eyes, he quickly pulls back enough to let you breathe. There’s an unspoken apology on his face, but once you begin licking his shaft like a popsicle, all hesitation disappears from his expression. 

He fucks your mouth, not quite as roughly as you expected given his supposed violent tendencies, but hard enough to make you moan around his cock as you continue to make an absolute mess in the chair. 

The sound of him breathing hard turns you on even more, and you wish one of your hands was free so you could shove it under your skirt. 

You constrict your throat around him, loving the way it makes him grunt and pump in harder. And after several minutes of absolutely railing your mouth, you feel his cock twitch and slide out. He barely makes it past your lips before his cum shoots out in thick ropes across your face, plenty of it splattering your lips and sliding onto your tongue. 

He’s panting above you, looking a little embarrassed. Was he trying to pull out in time to avoid filling your mouth? How sweet. You’re starting to think he’s not such a bad boy after all. 

You lick your lips clean as he stares at you, catching his breath. “Sorry,” he mutters, moving to go behind you, probably to untie your hands so you can clean your face. 

“Don’t untie me yet,” you tell him.

He pauses and looks at you questioningly. 

You tilt your head, causing more of his cum to drip to the corner of your mouth so you can reach it with your tongue. Then, as he watches intently with a pink flush to his face, you open your legs widely. Your skirt bunches at your waist, and your dripping pussy is on full display. 

“Are you really going to leave me like this?”

You hear his breath hitch, and just like magic, his cock is getting hard again. He looks you in the eyes, as if wanting to be sure. In response, you slide your hips forward, through your own juices, spreading your thighs even wider. 

That did the trick. Suddenly he’s jerking you up from the chair, your hands still tied behind you, and shoving you face down on the rickety table, effectively bending you over. His knees prod your legs apart, and before you can react at all, he buries the entirety of his cock in your pussy, making you gasp. 

Holy fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, and you can’t help but whimper as your bound hands grasp at air. 

You feel him lean over you from behind, and then his smooth voice in your ear, “This is what you wanted, right?”

His thrusts are so rough, the table is nearly scooting across the floor. You’re going to be sore for days after this. But god it feels good! “Yes!” you cry, clenching around him. “Break me!”

One of his hands reaches around and slides under your shirt, squeezing your breast hard before pinching your nipple. You hiss from the sting of it, getting more and more worked up. He’s hitting you so deep, right in the spot that makes your toes curl. 

“Ahhh… f-fuck, you’re so big,” you breathe out, feeling like he might literally split you in two. 

“You’re just… too tight…!” he mutters back, not slowing his thrusts at all. 

Maybe you teased him a little too much, because it feels like he’s made it his personal mission to fuck you absolutely stupid. 

And you love every second of it. 

He hits a particularly deep and sensitive spot, over and over, and suddenly you’re cumming, screaming out his name and squirting all over the table. He fucks you through it, both his hands now gripping your waist so hard, you know the imprints of his fingers will be there for a long time. 

When you feel him twitch again inside you, you quickly say, “Don’t pull out! I’m on birth control!”

“Oh fuck,” he says, sounding almost intoxicated as he plunges in as deeply as he can and releases his seed. You savor the feel of it churning inside you, filling you up completely. 

When he finally pulls out, he stands there behind you for a moment, probably watching his cum drip out of you. Then he reaches down and unties your wrists.

You stand up, rubbing the raw, red circles on your skin where the cord was. You like how they look. 

He’s fixing his pants and looking a little awkward as you pull your skirt back down. “Is there a bathroom in here?” you ask casually. 

“Down the hall on the left. It’s not the cleanest one though,” he says. 

“That’s fine. But you guys should probably clean it up if you’re gonna bring girls here.”

He gives you an uneasy smile. “I doubt that’s going to happen often.”

You blink at him. “Really? So I’m not invited to come back?”

His eyes widen. “Oh… uh, if you want to…” he says, his hand ruffling the back of his hair. “You’re welcome anytime.”

You grin. “Does the rest of your gang know what a sweetheart you are?”

He blushes again, but is obviously trying to look stern. “You better keep quiet about that!”

You blow him a kiss before you leave. “Your secret’s safe with me!”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a smut of Ethan Landry, that the reader discovers that he is a ghostface when they are about to fuck but she does not care and they do it anyway.

I have not posted for Scream in a while, my apologies

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Tara called you about the attack at the bodega, you felt a thrill of excitement.

You had seen pictures of past Ghostfaces online and some of them made you want to welcome them with open legs. Sam’s father was a total hottie when he committed the first murders in 1996. There was something about a man with a knife that made your panties dampen.

‘’Are you and Sam okay?’’

‘’Yeah. It was…brutal. And terrifying,’’ Tara said on the other side of the line, her voice still shaky. ‘’I’ve just gotten a normal life back, I don’t want to go through this again. And Sam—’’

A knock on your door stirred you from your phone call. ‘’Sorry, Tara. Eh, there’s someone at the door.’’ You glanced at the door and felt your heart race in your chest. ‘’I’m not expecting anyone though…’’

Tara’s breathing changed, getting traumatic flashes of her first attack. ‘’Don’t open! That’s how I was attacked last year.’’

The chances that she was right were slim, but not impossible. Since you were close friends with Tara, it made you part of the friend group…therefore a possible target. Ghostface could very well be standing on the other side.

You bit your tongue and held back from asking ‘who’s there?’, knowing it was a free ticket to your death. Instead, you check through the peep-hole.

‘’It’s Ethan,’’ you reassured Tara, seeing a curly haired awkward boy instead of the classic halloween mask. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?’’

You hung up and unlocked your door, letting Ethan in.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you had a late class tonight,’’ you said, drawing your eyebrows together. ‘’And why are you dressed like you’re going to a funeral?’’ You nodded your head at his unusual all black outfit.

‘’It finished twenty minutes ago.’’ Ethan slung off his backpack and put it down on the floor. It looked very full, how many books did he carry in there? ‘’My class. Not the funeral,’’ he felt the need to precise.

You chuckled, the soft sound echoing in the small apartment.

‘’I can’t stay long, I have an early class in the morning.’’

‘’Are we still having lunch together?’’

Ethan hummed and a rosy blush covered his cheeks as his eyes fell on your nightgown. He had spent the night over a few times, but very little clothes had been worn to bed. This satin number? He had never seen it before. Your breasts were free underneath and falling perfectly and your nipples were slightly poking through the thin fabric. It made his cock instantly swell.

‘’You sleep in that?’’ he asked, pointing at your nightgown.

‘’Yes, I sleep in that.’’

‘’Isn’t it a little dressed up for sleeping?’’

You rolled your eyes at his ‘men’ comment. ‘’Wearing nice pajamas is part of self-care.’’

‘’You wear that every night?’’ You nodded and Ethan fought a whine, jealously beaming at your bed attire. ‘’And the only pictures you send me are your face?’’

‘’If you want ‘goodnight’ nudes, you’re gonna have to earn them,’’ you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking an eyebrow. ‘’What’s your deal, Landry? I’m listening.’’

After a few propositions, you decided that getting railed into your mattress was a good enough deal...for one picture. Ethan’s dick was good, but you weren’t a fool. If he wants more nudes, he’ll have to offer more.

You tilted your head to the side as he kissed and nipped at your neck. No matter how many times you’ve been naked with him, it still shocked you how desperate Ethan was for you and your body. His hands slid up the backs of your thighs, right below the hem of your nightgown. A part of him wanted to tear it off your body, but the other wanted to fuck you with it on. 

You left him to his dilemma and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to yank it off, but Ethan hissed in pain when he lifted his shoulder. He tried to cover it with a cough, but you had already seen the bruise the size of a grapefruit on your boyfriend’s side.

Sitting up and pausing your activities, you looked at him in concern. ‘’How did that happen?’’ You ghosted your finger over the purple-y red skin. 

Did he get into a fight? Did he get jumped after a late class? Campus is not safe at night, which is why you always carry something to defend yourself. But Ethan's not small or weak, the muscles underneath his polos can fight back.

‘’I…’’ Ethan drew his eyebrows, trying to come up with an explanation. ‘’It's nothing. I got hurt doing something stupid at the gym with Chad.’’

Last week? His explanation not making sense. The timeline didn’t add up. 

‘’You didn't have it three days ago when we rudely got interrupted in your dorm.’’

‘’I did,’’ he insisted. ‘’You…you must not have noticed it.’’ 

‘’But it’s so dark. It looks recent.’’ 

Ethan moved so the bruise was out of your sight, then sighed. ‘’Can we go back to kissing? I don't want to talk about this.’’ 

Instead of calming your worries, his words flared them up. ‘’Did someone do this to you? Oh my god, did he attack you too?’’

 ‘’No. It's not Ghostface. I wasn't at the bodega.’’ He took your hands in his to reassure you, but there was a flaw in his statement. 

‘’What do you know about the bodega?’’ you asked cautiously, remembering Mindy's words to be cautious about the love interest. 

His backpack was in the living room. If you went and checked its content, would you find a black robe and a mask, or just books?

‘’Sam and Tara got attacked tonight after leaving the police office, right? You told me while I was in class.’’

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. You never mentioned the bodega to Ethan.

‘’I did not. I was on the phone with Tara when you arrived here. She was telling me what happened.’’

Ethan's heart raced, realizing he had spoken too much. Panic surged through his veins, urging him to flee, to hide, to deny any involvement, but he knew deep down that it was futile. You knew. 

‘’Was...was it you at the bodega? Did you attack Sam and Tara?’’ 

Your questions were simple, but terrifying from Ethan's shoes. He had been caught, unmasked. There was no escaping the haunting truth. His world would never be the same again. You would never see him the same.

He grabbed his shirt, about to leave, but you pulled him back by his belt and looked up at him with pleading eyes. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf

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[literatureloverx]

Please could you do headcanons or mini scenarios for first date with chuuya, dazai and fyodor?

Also please could I have an anon emoji...except I don't know which emoji because I'm indecisive.

Hello, my dear! Of course you can. How about 🍄-anon?♥️

I wrote scenarios. I hope it’s okay!♥️

BSD MEN x the first date

BSD MEN x ideal type fem!reader darlings.

Characters: Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor Dostoevsky had always been meticulous in his plans, and tonight was no exception. Every detail of your first date had been carefully orchestrated to unfold exactly as he envisioned.

He had lured you into a seemingly casual meeting of “intellectuals” in a secluded, elegant setting, a lavish estate that echoed the grandeur of the past.

The soft light cast by ornate chandeliers flickered against the walls adorned with grand paintings, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.

You had asked him beforehand what to wear, and his answer had been simple yet deliberate: a white, elegant dress.

As you stepped into the opulent space, you felt a wave of acceptance wash over you; everyone else was dressed in white, their attire a silent agreement that you belonged in this curated circle.

Fyodor’s puppets, each a pawn in his grand design, mingled and chatted, their laughter echoing like distant music, adding to the atmosphere of sophistication.

But as the evening progressed, one by one, his so-called friends vanished, slipping away into the vast halls, leaving you increasingly alone with him. The soft strains of Tchaikovsky filled the air, and you could almost feel the notes dancing around you, wrapping you in an embrace as intimate as the one Fyodor offered.

He positioned himself beside you, his gaze piercing yet inviting, ensuring you felt safe and secure in his grasp. Fyodor was a man who possessed an unusual liking for you, a sentiment that surprised even him.

He watched you subtly, dissecting your thoughts and reconstructing them to his will while appearing to engage you in intimate conversation. Each word he spoke felt like a thread woven into the fabric of your connection, drawing you closer to him.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was reading your mind, an idea that thrilled you and made you blush.

Your heart raced as you responded to his questions, and every so often, he would lean in just a little closer, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. This only deepened his fascination with you. It was the beginning of a push and pull that would last forever, a delicate balance between desire and control.

As you sipped wine together, the rich flavor blossoming on your palate, you found yourself drawn into discussions that felt as if they were crafted by him.

The way he spoke, weaving complex ideas with effortless elegance, made you feel as if you were engaging in a private dance, a conversation that held the weight of something profoundly intimate. He ensured you were served exquisite meals, each dish a work of art, the presentation as much a part of the experience as the taste.

But the flicker of curiosity crossed your mind as you finally noticed his friends disappearing into thin air, leaving the two of you in a secluded corner of the hall.

The vastness of the space seemed to close in around you, amplifying the intensity of your interaction. You turned to him, the question hovering on the tip of your tongue, but before you could voice it, he leaned in closer, his voice low and reassuring.

“No need to worry about them, darling,” he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “They’re simply adept at recognizing the signs.”

Yet, the way he looked at you held a different message, one that was unmistakably clear: They know I wanted you all to myself.

The tension in the air shifted, a palpable electricity between you as he continued to draw you in, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating.

In that moment, surrounded by the fading echoes of laughter and the beautiful strains of classical music, you realized that you were no longer a mere guest in his carefully constructed world; you were the centerpiece of it.

And as Fyodor continued to engage you, the boundaries of your reality blurred, enveloping you in a night filled with possibilities and whispered promises that felt both exhilarating and dangerously thrilling.

Dazai Osamu

Dazai had always possessed a certain charm that could lure people into his world with little more than a smile. But today, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, the stakes felt different.

He had watched you for months, a sweet girl with your head in the clouds, and he realized you had become a central figure in his world. He wanted to love you, to spend time with you, and to create a perfect first date—something memorable and just for you. He arranged a light-hearted escape to the beach, masking the weight of his intentions beneath a carefree façade.

As you arrived, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the water. The air was thick with the scent of salt and freedom, creating an atmosphere of tranquil beauty.

Dazai had spread out a checkered blanket on the sand, artfully arranged with an array of delectable treats—fresh fruit, pastries, and a bottle of sparkling juice. It looked inviting and perfect, just like the romance he knew you craved.

“Welcome to our little paradise, Bella~” he said, gesturing with an exaggerated flourish.

His smile was bright, yet he felt a genuine pressure to make this evening special for you. He wanted to impress you, to make you happy—more than anything, he wanted this to be good. Perfect, even, just the way you deserved.

As you settled onto the blanket, Dazai could see the way your eyes sparkled with delight. You looked enchanted, as though you were stepping into one of your daydreams.

A warmth blossomed within him, but it was accompanied by a tinge of fear—the fear of not living up to your expectations and the fear of losing you. He couldn’t quite understand why the thought of losing you felt like a weight pressing on his chest, yet he acknowledged it nonetheless. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him; he had experienced the pain of losing someone he cherished before.

However, you were different from his beloved friend. You were unlike Odasaku. You were addictive to him, and he wanted to make this connection official.

Dazai sat beside you, the blanket soft beneath you, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind. He began teasing you mercilessly, weaving absurd stories from his life that he concocted on the spot, knowing the real ones might scare you. These dangerous escapades left you laughing, yet beneath it all, he felt as if he were peeling back the layers of both of you.

The more he revealed, the more he exposed his own vulnerabilities. Each laugh and shared glance deepened the connection between you, weaving an invisible thread that pulled him closer.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost got kicked out of a café for reading too loudly?” he began, eyes glimmering with mischief.

He spun a wild tale filled with embellishments, his laughter contagious. You joined in, your giggles ringing like a melody against the backdrop of the waves crashing against the shore.

As the sun continued its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Dazai’s expression shifted. The playful façade faded, revealing the deeper truth lurking beneath.

He felt almost naked, utterly vulnerable under your gaze, acutely aware that you truly saw him. He knew that you loved him. The little spark he was about to showcase would blossom into a deep relationship, and he was ready to overcome his fear.

He turned to you, his gaze drifting toward the ocean, as if searching for something just out of reach.

“You know,” he mused, his voice soft, “there’s a certain beauty in transience. We grasp at moments, knowing they’re destined to fade.”

You felt a chill at his words, a hint of the sadness that lingered behind his signature smile. It hung between you like a threadbare veil, a reminder of the battles he fought internally. Dazai leaned in closer, the corners of his mouth curving, yet the light in his eyes seemed dimmed by unspoken truths.

In that moment, you sensed the depth of his feelings. You reached for his hand, fingers brushing lightly against his. “But isn’t that what makes those moments worth savoring? The fact that they won’t last forever?”

He turned to you, something vulnerable shining in his gaze. He swallowed hard, fighting against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I may not know if I’ve found my reason to live, but there’s certainly someone who makes it worth trying.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the water, you felt the weight of his confession settle between you, anchoring the moment in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You smiled softly, leaning closer, the warm colors of sunset wrapping around you. In that moment, everything felt possible—each fleeting second with him was something to cherish, something beautiful and fleeting, just like the sunset itself.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya had spared no detail tonight. The restaurant, renowned for its exclusivity, was reserved entirely for the two of you. Its luxurious décor, all deep mahogany and velvet, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, felt intimate, almost too perfect for a first date. You’d heard of this place, its name whispered with reverence, but you hadn’t expected him to pull such strings.

Chuuya stood beside you, dressed sharply in a fitted black suit, his hat set aside on the chair next to him. His cobalt eyes, typically sharp and commanding, held something softer tonight as they settled on you.

Still, there was an edge beneath it— confidence. He leaned in, closer than necessary, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk when he saw the way your breath hitched at his proximity.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice smooth but laced with that familiar confidence. Also low, teasing, but there was a firmness in the way he held himself, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

You swallowed, gathering your composure, and nodded. “It’s beautiful, Chuuya. You didn’t have to go this far.”

He pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before taking his own seat across from you.

“It’s incredible,” you said, still in awe of the setting. The candlelight flickered between you, giving his already striking features a softer, more intimate look. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled, almost as if relieved by your response.

“Only the best for our first date,” he said, leaning back slightly, fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass. “Wanted to make sure it was memorable.”

The evening began with a flow of the finest dishes, each one more exquisite than the last. Chuuya, known for his impeccable taste, made sure everything was perfect. You both talked—about anything and everything.

The usual rough edges Chuuya carried with him seemed to smooth out as the conversation deepened, the two of you slipping into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural.

At one point, you caught the way he looked at you—his usual sharpness softened by something deeper. His hand reached across the table, brushing against yours lightly before settling atop it. His touch was warm, contrasting with the cool elegance of the restaurant around you.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “It’s almost… too perfect.”

Chuuya’s lips quirked into a grin, but there was something sincere in his eyes. “You deserve perfect,” he replied, voice low, leaning in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence. “I don’t do anything halfway; you should know that by now.”

The night continued to unfold, filled with laughter and quiet moments exchanged between the two of you. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on your dreams, your fears, and everything in between. By the time dessert arrived—an intricate display of chocolate and gold leaf—you found yourself more captivated by him than you had ever anticipated.

As the evening began to wind down, Chuuya leaned back in his chair, studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. “So, what do you think of the Port Mafia’s culinary choices?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d be dining at a mafia-recommended restaurant. I’m impressed, really.”

Chuuya chuckled, a genuine sound that warmed you from within. “Maybe it’s time to show you more of what my world has to offer,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “But only the best parts, I promise.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the connection between you deepening in the cozy atmosphere. As you finished your dessert, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary. The evening felt like a carefully orchestrated performance, one where both of you were the stars.

With the candles flickering softly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable chemistry that had sparked between you.

[starhoppin]

pick a picture; who is your soulmate

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer: this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「 pile one 」

[personality] queen of swords, queen of pentacles rv, ten of pentacles this person is very intellectual. in fact they might tend to overanalyze and overthink things/events/situations that have happened in their life. this can be a burden for them. however, i'm also seeing that they're a bit of a dreamer. specifically, they're someone who struggles with grounding themselves in the present. they may have a lot of ideas that they want to put out into the world, but they have a difficult time turning their fantasies/ideas into something tangible. they're driven and optimistic. they're someone who always views the cup as "half full" rather than half empty. they know that as long as they work towards their true desires, they will be able to obtain them.

[appearance] long dark hair (both men and women), distinct nose (specifically large noses), strong jawline, might like to wear jewelry (specifically necklaces - may like to layer them), native or asian descent.

[love language] the mapmaker of destiny, gaia's garden i'm getting for some that your soulmate may be into art - specifically painting or drawing? they might like to give you those types of gifts. they might also like to give you flowers. consequently, their main love language might be gift-giving.

[potential zodiac signs] lots of fire sign energy - specifically aries as well as leo placements. i'm also getting strong pisces energy. they might also have gemini placements.

[songs that may resonate] f*kin' perfect - p!nk, mr. loverman - ricky montgomery, falling - chase atlantic

「 pile two 」

[personality] eight of cups, death (cb: six of swords), page of cups this person is a dreamer - some might describe them as someone with their "head in the clouds." i'm getting the image of them thinking of something happy, but when someone asks them what they're smiling about, they just shake their head and say never mind. they have innocent/puppy/golden retriever energy. they're like a bundle of sunshine. i wouldn't be surprised if this was someone with a lot of friends or was described as the life of the party. however, this person might have a fear of change or asking for help. they may seem they're strong and independent, but they might feel the need to do everything by themselves.

[appearance] for some, their soulmate may dress in a boho aesthetic? your soulmate may have either dark hair or blond (like i'm getting either they have super dark hair, or super blond- almost white hair. nothing really in between). if they're a guy, they may have facial hair.

[love language] the lady of the gift, the horse king rv this person's love language is definitely gift-giving. i'm not seeing anything in particular, but i'm getting that they'll buy things that they think you will like on a whim. literally like anything that reminds them of you. also their love language could be acts of service. they will want to spoil you - which, in their mind, means giving you "the princess treatment." this is the kind of person who will open the car door for you, cook you dinner to make your day easier, etc.

[potential zodiac signs] lots of water sign energy - specifically scorpio; however, they may also be a cancer. i'm also getting heavy aries energy. they might have some aquarius placements too.

[songs that may resonate] golden hour - jvke, once upon a december - liz callaway, battlefield - svrcina

「 pile three 」

[personality] king of swords, knight of swords, nine of wands your soulmate is very logical. when it comes to a decision of any kind, they carefully weigh the facts beforehand. when they have to make a choice, they're very practical - meaning they might go against their true desires if they deem that route "illogical." this person values fairness and truth above all else. this person may be a bit rigid when it comes to their plans. they like having control and may get frustrated when their plans go astray or things don't unfold exactly how they planned. they may take on more than they can handle because they're eager to get to their end goal. they may struggle with burnout - specifically because they tend to ignore signs that they should rest. however, their dedication and resiliency translates into your love life in a positive way; this is the type of person who will refuse to give up on you (both in terms of pursuing you in the beginning and throughout your relationship). they will always want to work through problems and they aren't the type to brush things under the rug.

[appearance] if your soulmate is a man, they may have dark hair as well as facial hair. if they're a woman, they have long hair - blonde or reddish. they may also like to experiment with makeup - such as trying out different looks or they may like to wear unique eye makeup. in general, they may like to wear hats.

[love language] the lady of the gift, the hawk prince this person loves to give gifts - in particular, things that you may be eyeing. if you look at something while you're out shopping but put it back, they will make a mental note to go back and buy it. they pay attention to what you like/dislike because they want to give you thoughtful gifts that show that they care.

[potential zodiac signs] heavy water sign energy - specifically pisces and cancer. some air sign energy as well - particularly libra. they may also have some aries placements.

[songs that may resonate] enchanted - taylor swift, slow dancing in the dark - joji, dive - ed sheeran

tarot decks used in this reading: cirque du tarot & wisdom of the hidden realms oracle cards

[rubyboobidoo]

not tryna make you jealous, but it looks so good on you | sofia gigante x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, dom sofia (obvi), hair pulling, degradation+praise, spanking, thigh riding, just absolute FILTH 18+

A/N: this took me too long smh but i think it was worth it

it can’t be easy, running an entire empire that is. you know sofia appreciates you being her doting and understanding girlfriend, always by her side, always good for her. but lately, it’s been too much. all the late nights and days spent without so much as a kiss from her leave you worried and ever so desperate. it’s not like you’re asking for much, just a little bit of attention.

when you first noticed the revealing dress sofia had gifted you at the back of your closet, you knew exactly what to do. the plan was simple — wear it around the falcone residence until she finally noticed her mistake. you were confident it would get the reaction you wanted. until she saw you, her face twisted into a furious scowl. before you could react, she grabbed your arm and marched you straight into the nearest bedroom, the tension in the air palpable.

sofia struts to where you stand in the room, the haunting click of her heals on the floor following her. she circles around you, her hands skimming over the silk dress. it's funny how such a garment can cause such a fuss. "now, let's get one thing straight" she stops, hands lingering at your hips "all this" she purrs as her eyes scan your figure "is mine. understood?"

you decide to push her further, "i don't follow. all i'm doing is showing off what you bought me, baby." you sway, drawing attention to the fabric - or lack there of - on your body.

sofia's eyes narrow, her grip tightening on your hips as she yanks you close. "you think you’re being clever, hmm?" she hisses, her breath hot against your neck “playing games in front of my men?"

with one hand on your hip she raises the other to your head, grabbing a fist full of hair.

she watches with satisfaction as your eyes well with tears from the shock. "this dress, this body, this pretty little mouth of yours... all mine to do with as i please.”

one hand slides up your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest just below your collarbone. "this dress... should be a reminder of who you belong to." her other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat.

her grip in your hair tightens, just shy of painful. "over my lap. now." sofia releases you abruptly, stepping back to sit at the edge of her bed. "don't keep me waiting, sweetheart. i'm not a patient woman.” she taps her fingers impatiently against her thigh, staring through you as she restlessly awaits your response.

your chest tightens with fear of what she'll do next, but you don't move. instead, you stay still, pushing her further.

“god, must i do everything myself?" she snaps, rising from the bed. in one swift motion, she grabs your arm, yanking you toward her. you gasp falling into her lap forcing air out of your lungs and causing your dress to ride up.

the cool air leaves goosebumps over your thighs and sofia leaves little time for you to collect yourself before binging her hand down against your rear.

"count them out." she demands coldly. her hand comes down again as you wrangle a muffled 'one' from the back of your throat.

sofia continues her assault, filling the room with the echoed sound of skin on skin. you stop fighting the tears several slaps ago, letting them flow freely down your face as your flesh becomes increasingly red.

satisfied with her work, sofia pauses, her hand resting on your lower back. "good girl," she murmurs, her tone almost affectionate. you allow yourself to bask in the praise before uttering a small "thank you."

sofia shuffles back towards the headboard of the bed, smirking as she signals you to move with her. she watches in satisfaction as you crawl towards her, tapping her thigh with her slender finger as if to say “take a seat”.

you can feel her taking in the sight of you - the heat of her gaze on your skin. moving to straddle her leg, you realise how embarrassingly wet you had become.

sofia's lips curl into a hungry grin as she watches you crawl toward her. eyes raking over your figure, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, damp from tears.

“you wanted my attention and now you have it, princess.” she growls, her voice low and dangerous.

you know what she wants you to do - make a mess, give her a show. but your mind was too fuzzy and you just couldn’t seem to make your hips move. instead, you lean in for a kiss.

sofia allows it, letting your lips clashing against each other as you whine into the kiss.

you a pitiful whine as she breaks the kiss, your breath coming in harsh pants. she bring her gaze down to where your heat meets her tight-clad thigh. “need a hand?” she teased, cocking her head.

she watches you eagerly nod and with that, she takes ahold of your hips, digging her nails into your flesh through the thin silk.

there’s something so jarring about being so bare before your fully clothed girlfriend but it’s all worth it for the friction that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine.

at a steady pace she guides your hips up and down her thigh. her feeling is torturous, delicious but leaving so much more to be desired.

you bite your lip to stifle a moan, your embarrassment palpable. she loves you like this - eager, desperate for more.

she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers “poor baby,” her voice laced with sarcasm “so desperate for my attention yet too shy to make all those pretty little noises.”

"sofia," you moan, arching further into her thigh.

"ah ah," sofia tuts, slowing her movement completely. "i didn't say you could move, did i?"

she hooks a finger under the strap of your dress, tugging it down to expose more of your skin. "i love seeing you like this," she breathes, her lips trailing down your neck. "squirming and whimpering, all for me."

“only you.” you breathe, maybe if you appease her she’ll give you what you so desperately need.

“please, baby” you beg, hips bucking up in the desperate search for more traction “i need it.”

"since you asked so nicely," she growls pulling her lips from your skin.

sofia returns her hands to your hips, grinding you against her thigh with expert precision. the friction is incredible, building the tension coiling in your core.

she grips your hips tighter, her nails digging into your flesh as she grinds you harder against her thigh. sofia relishes the debauched sight of you - chest heaving from sporadic breaths, shaking legs tensing around her thigh, hazy eyes brimmed with tears of pleasure.

she quickens her pace as she notices you coming further undone. you can feel it building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter “come on, baby,” sofia urges, her voice low and encouraging. “let go, princess. give me what i want.”

her words in your ear are enough to send you tumbling over the edge. a wave of pleasure crashes over you as sofia draws out every last shudder and gasp.

she pulls back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “what an awful girlfriend i am, hmm?” she tenderly brushes a stray her from your forehead “letting my girl get all needy.”

you pout and joking nod in agreement “the worst.” you chuckle. with the little strength you have left, you shift your weight from her thigh.

“i don’t remember saying i was done with you, sweetheart.” sofia threatens. rather than protest, you steadily lower yourself between her legs, looking up at her through eager eyes.

“who said i was going anywhere?”

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Tie

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

SMUT

It is a quiet morning in London. Y/N stands in the bedroom, bathed in the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains. James sits at the edge of the bed as she ties his tie.

"Why do you even wear a tie?" Y/N asks playfully, tugging on the silk fabric as she tightens the loop. "I thought you were a man of freedom."

James smiles, his blue eyes sparkling. "Because you said it looks good," he replies, his voice warm and deep. "And I like doing what pleases you."

Y/N giggles and refocuses on the knot. She carefully wraps the tie around his neck, but as she pulls it tighter, she accidentally makes it a little too snug.

“Uff!” James gasps lightly, but instead of complaining, he raises his head and looks at her with a challenging gaze, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Go ahead. Maybe I like it."

Y/N pauses, her eyes widening briefly, then a grin spreads across her face. "Oh really?" she teases him. "I didn’t know that."

"Well, now you do," James murmurs, leaning in. "Maybe you should pull a little tighter, just to make sure."

Y/N grins, and without hesitation, she pulls the tie firmly again. James gasps, but his reaction isn’t one of pain, rather one of pleasure. His eyes gleam dangerously, and a low, deep chuckle escapes him.

Before she knows it, he pulls her onto his lap. Instantly, Y/N can feel his arousal through the fabric of their clothes. Her grin widens as she falls into the passionate kiss he gives her. She moves her hips slightly, rubbing against him, which elicits a deep, animalistic growl from him. He grips her tighter, his hands digging into her hips as he pulls her closer.

But suddenly, his demeanor changes. With a swift, determined motion, James grabs her and tosses her onto the bed. His breathing is heavy, and his eyes burn with desire. "No matter if we are late," he growls as he hurriedly removes his trousers and boxers.

Y/N lies before him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he pushes her dress up and pulls her panties aside. Without another word, he positions himself and slowly presses into her. She feels every inch of him, her fingers clawing into his shoulders as a loud moan escapes her lips.

James moves in a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust is deep, demanding, and his lips constantly seek hers. They kiss repeatedly, their tongues dancing together as their bodies move in perfect harmony.

With each thrust, deeper and firmer, she feels the tension building within her. She writhes beneath him, her hands digging into his back as she gives herself over to him completely. The slow pace only intensifies the heat building between them. Their breathing quickens, and her nails gently scrape over his skin.

James’ kisses trail to her neck, and she moans his name softly, her voice trembling with desire. "James…" she pants, "I’m so close…"

A dark, rough growl escapes him, and suddenly, he becomes faster and rougher. His movements are now more powerful, more urgent, as if he wants to claim her entirely. Y/N reaches her climax, clinging tightly to him, her body trembling under the intensity of her release.

James feels her tighten around him, and it finally brings him over the edge as well. With a deep groan, he buries himself one last time inside her.

Their bodies tremble slightly as they both breathe heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. Slowly, James pulls out of her, and without another word, he gently draws Y/N into his arms. They lie close, wrapped around each other.

“Maybe we should be late more often,” James murmurs with a satisfied smile, kissing her forehead.

Y/N laughs softly, closing her eyes as she enjoys the warmth of his body. “Maybe…”

[dollya-robinprotector]

You can answer this whenever, or never, if you don't want to! But can I ask for advice on how you come up with outfits? I saw the one with Nyan and Kariya's protest outfits not too mention the ones you come up with on your own.

They're all just so pleasing to the eye, and I need to know your secret!!! or tips or anything!!! 🙏🙏🙏

I guess all I can say is you gotta see a lot, save it to your memory, and know how to do some mix-match.

If you take a look at the Galery section in my commission info web, you'll see nothing I've done to the PCs comes even a bit close to what I actually design for commission or work. The style, I mean. So if you want to draw clothes or characters with simple but still pleasing designs, I think it's safe to say just do whatever you like. My PCs wear only black and white because I like those colors. Lyah wears glasses because I like men with glasses, he has his sleeves rolled up because I like men when they roll their shirt sleeves up. Lya's dress top is skimpy because I like to draw soft boobs spilling out of the hem of clothes. Kariya wears virgin killer because I like bare back and side boobs, etc... Do what you like most. Then you'll know how to make them pretty.

Or... if you want to be more complicated, let's say, hoyoverse or onmyouji or Square Enix level, even Love Nikki level of complicated, then you must really add as many things as possible to your image library. I don't know how to actually say this, it's hard to put into words, but just keep finding references and keep drawing.

Motifs and tropes are something to learn too. For how insect wings and flowers will make you think of fairy or natural, while clocks or gears remind you of steampunk.

How to make a female character look like a mommy? What kind of mommy are we talking about? The "ara ara" type? By making their figure look more round and plum, making their hair loose or more silky with a long dress and apron, and making them always have their palm to cup the side of their face, and tilt their head a little... Things like that. Sometimes stereotype is a good way to start your design game.

Or how to tell if a character is a young brat? Spiky hair, missing teeth with bandages here and there, maybe a tattoo or some piercings with sloppy clothes? Butttttt when you look closer they always have, maybe, some cute stickers on their belongings? Maybe because they have a lil sibling and they have a soft side for that sibling? Yeah, sneak in some easter egg here and there. It's fun when people notice an Easter egg and hopefully, that could lead to questions or discussion between your fans!

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Clandestine Meetings

Summary: Bradley was coming home today. Six weeks on a no-contact deployment, stuck on a carrier in the middle of some non disclosed body of water, and he’s finally coming home. Normally, you’d be bursting at the seams with happy excitement. But the two of you had left things in an...interesting place. When he’s finally standing in front of you, you can tell by his cold and dark eyes that he remembers, too. But he’s had six weeks to think of exactly how you can earn his forgiveness, and you’re all too willing to do anything it takes. 

Warnings: Language, masturbation, oral (male receiving), rough sex, degradation.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.3K

Notes: A special surprise birthday one shot for @mak-32. I hope you love it, babe!

-------

-------

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He was quiet despite being the only ones in the house, his voice nothing but a whisper floating in the space between your bodies. 

Your breath stuttered out of you and your mouth was dry. You knew this was different from anything you had ever done before. You weren’t sure you’d be able to come back from it. It made you nervous. But you couldn’t deny the heat that settled low in your tummy at the thought of going through with it, either. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered. 

---

It’s fitting, you suppose, that it’s a rare cold day in Southern California. The wind feels like ice on every inch of your exposed skin and goosebumps prickle your entire body. You think it might even rain, the clouds above you darkening with every minute. You almost regret your outfit choice tremendously right now. The flowy purple dress you wore was thin and short and did nothing to combat the cool breeze. But you really had no choice but to wear it. It was Bradley’s favorite, after all. And you know that it’s just a silly dress, but it’s important for him to see you in it right now.

He’s coming home today. Six weeks on a no-contact deployment, stuck on a carrier in the middle of some non disclosed body of water, and he’s finally coming home. Normally, you’d be bouncing on the balls of your feet, too excited to care about the cold. And then the moment you saw him, you’d launch yourself at him, the comfort of his embrace warming you from the outside in. 

You swallow thickly at the memory of previous reunions. They were always sweet. Loving. 

You don’t think today will go like that. 

You’re a cold, trembling bundle of nerves in a flimsy dress by the time the ship finally docks and men and women in khaki uniforms start to disembark. Your eyes dart through the crowd, looking for the familiar mustache and head of curls. You’re standing where you always do when he comes home, something you agreed upon after your second deployment together when he wandered around for almost an hour trying to find you in the sea of people. You hope that he still thinks to look for you here. 

You hope that he’d still expect you to be here. 

You don’t have to wait too much longer to find out; your breath catches when you see him. He looks so good. Tired, like he always does after a deployment, but a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. It takes everything in you not to run and jump in his arms like you’ve done so many times before. 

A range of emotions pass through those entrancing brown eyes of his, so quickly that you have a hard time deciphering all of them. You think you see a brief flash of relief and happiness, but it goes away so fast, you can’t really tell. He stops in front of you and for a moment, you both just stare. He lifts an eyebrow with a slight tilt to his head, like he’s trying to read you. You adjust the chain around your neck, drawing his gaze downward for a moment. You suddenly feel like the jewelry is suffocating you and your mouth feels like you were chewing on cotton balls. 

“Surprised to see you here.”

You nearly flinch at the words, biting back a gasp. The cold, accusatory tone of his voice cuts you deeper than the wind ever could. Because of course you would be here. Where else would you be? 

You have to swallow several times to get the words out. 

“I’m…I’m here to…apologize.” 

Bradley lets out a single sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. This time, you do flinch. 

“That’s rich. You didn’t seem very apologetic six weeks ago, sweetheart.”

Right, you thought.

You flashback to the night before he left, when this had all started. He’s right, you remember - there wouldn’t have been any apologizing then. Instead, it was antagonizing words and insults flying out of your mouth, trying uselessly to defend yourself when you had been the one to mess up. To manipulate him into believing that maybe it was all his fault. You have had six long weeks, every possible scenario playing in your head of how that night went, and how it did. 

“I - I know,” you stutter. 

He raises one of those thick, endearingly perfect eyebrows. You stare back at him, transfixed at having him in front of you. You want to touch him, but you know you can’t. You aren’t used to having him so close yet so far away, especially on the days he comes home. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that it takes you a minute to realize he looks like he’s waiting for something. Oh. Right. An apology. “Bradley. Baby, I -” 

A crack of thunder rings in the air, and you both look up to the sky just in time for the first raindrop to fall. It’s followed quickly by a second, and then a third. You look back at Bradley, eyes wide. He lets out a sigh and adjusts his duffle on his shoulder. 

“I’m not going to let you stand out in the rain, no matter how mad I am,” he says. You feel relief at the words, even if his tone suggests maybe he wanted to do otherwise. He extends his hand, and for a second you think he’s asking for yours. Heat crawls up your neck when you realize that’s not what he was after. Wordlessly, you extract the keys from your dress pocket and hold them out. You gasp when his fingers brush yours when he grabs them. Electricity and warmth shoot through you at the touch. Your eyes meet, both of you frozen. The cold indifference on his face slips, replaced by a longing that makes your heart clench. Your breath catches when he shuffles a step closer to you. You think maybe he’ll forget all of this and lean forward and kiss you, or at least touch you with some sort of intention. Anything. But then another rumble of thunder has the warmth fading from his eyes and he steps back. 

The drive back to your house is silent, the tension in the front seat of the Bronco thickening with every mile. His jaw is clenched as tightly as his grip on the steering wheel. You can see the veins throbbing with the effort and you swallow at the flash of heat that flares through you at the sight. Your thighs press together on instinct and you think Bradley clocks the movement because you feel him watching you, though you can’t tear your gaze away from his hands. They’re one of your favorite parts of him physically. They’re so capable and strong and versatile, providing the roughest of touches along with the softest carasses. Desire pools in your tummy just thinking about it. You missed his touch. You missed him. 

The quiet doesn’t dissipate when you walk through the front door. You’re used to him hauling you into his arms and carrying you back to your bedroom, or the closest mostly-flat surface you can make it to. This time, Bradley doesn’t even look back as he makes his way to your shared room. He closes the door behind him, and the message is clear: he needs more time. 

You feel something prickling under your skin. There’s anxiety, certainly, but there’s a simmer of heat that you can’t deny either. Part of you feels ashamed of it, being turned on at the anger he’s emitting in your direction. 

You suppose that’s the point. 

You busy yourself with making dinner, some of his favorites that you know he craved when he was away. You serve up two full plates once you’re done and it’s five minutes of sitting alone at the table, waiting, before he comes out. He’s showered and changed, his curls still damp on his head. You know the shirt he has on is one of the softest that he owns. You look at him eagerly, but he avoids your gaze. He sits across from you and picks up his fork without another word. Your thighs clench. 

When he’s done, he sets his plate in the sink and pours himself some of the expensive whiskey you bought him for his last birthday. He moves into the living room, leaving you all alone to clean up after the meal. Both of you have yet to speak since walking in the front door. 

You take your time doing the dishes by hand and wiping down the countertops. Your heart is pounding in your chest by the time you go out to join him. He’s sitting on the couch, those long legs of his spread, the glass of liquor halfway gone in his hand. 

God, his hands. 

You stand in front of him. You pick at your fingers and chew on the inside of your cheek so hard that you can taste blood. Bradley watches you with a raised eyebrow, bringing the glass to his lips another sip of the dark liquid. You watch his throat move as he swallows. 

“What can I do?” you ask. You know you sound desperate, but you’re so close to breaking. You aren’t sure how long you could do this. You need guidance, direction - you need him.

“I don’t know that there’s anything to do.” 

His words make you want to cry or drop to your knees or both. “Please, baby,” you whisper, “I’ll do anything. Please.” 

He’s silent for another moment and your will power is rapidly leaving you. But then he throws back the rest of his whiskey and lets out a long suffering sigh. The glass clinks hard against the end table and he stands to his full height. You don’t dare move as he walks over to you. His gaze makes you feel like you’re going to burn alive. 

“You wore my favorite dress,” he finally murmurs, slipping his finger under the strap and running the back of his knuckle against your skin. You nod slowly. He hums in consideration before taking a step back. You nearly whimper at the rejection, but then he speaks.  

“Take it off.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What?” 

“Take it off,” he repeats, leaning against the arm of the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I-right here?” you ask, looking around like you aren’t alone in your living room. 

“Right here,” he confirms with a nod. When you don’t move, he motions you to hurry up, looking impatient. “Go on.”  

It’s a challenge. He’s pushing to see how far he can go, and you’re going to let him. Your hands shake as you reach for the hem of the short purple dress he loves so much. You tug it over your head and let it float to the hardwood floor. The look you give him when you’re done is a little shyer as you wait for him to tell you what to do next. 

Bradley scoffs with a shake of his head even as he looks at you with clear appreciation. “No underwear, sweetheart? I should have known.” 

The words make you feel hot with embarrassment. But you also feel the heat flaring up in your core. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you tell him. 

He pushes off the couch and steps forward until his body is practically flush with yours. You aren’t blind to the juxtaposition you make with him fully clothed while you’re completely naked. It makes you feel a bit like someone to be used - like someone who wants to be used. You squeeze your thighs together in anticipation, and then your lips part in a gasp when his fingers lightly wrap around your neck, forcing your head back the slightest bit until you meet his eyes. He pauses for a moment, tilting his head just the slightest bit, considering you. The shaky breath you let out is laced with anticipation and arousal and without needing to even think about it, you lean into his touch. Just like that, his face hardens again and he moves. 

He releases your neck and trails his fingertips down your body, starting at the column of your throat and traveling between your breasts and down your fluttering stomach. His touch is so featherlight it’s almost not there, but if anything, that turns you on even more. You’re aching for him. By the time he passes your belly button, you’re audibly panting for it. You can feel your arousal starting to coat the inside of your thighs.  But he stops right above where you need him the most. 

“You say that you’re sorry? That you missed me?” he asks quietly. You’re nodding before he’s even done with the first question. Bradley trails his eyes down your body again. His eyes are darker when he meets yours. “Go back to our room. Lay down on the bed.” 

Our room. It’s the first thing he’s said that acknowledges that you’re still an “our”. It sends your heart pounding and your feet moving down the hallway to the other side of the house. When you walk into your room, you notice that he had unpacked his bag. The dirty clothes hamper is nearly overflowing with things that need to be washed. His phone is plugged in on his nightstand, where the picture of the two of you he always takes with him on deployment is sitting back in its rightful spot. 

You hadn’t considered the fact that maybe he wouldn’t have put it back, if he had even ended up taking it with him at all. 

You don’t get long to overanalyze or get in your feelings that maybe things, your relationship, is salvageable after all, because you hear the old floorboard in the hallway creak under his weight and know that he’s on his way. You rush over to the bed. Your head has just hit the pillow when he appears in the doorway. 

You want to say something, anything, to get further confirmation that everything was okay. But you don’t dare move. He doesn’t look anywhere but in your eyes as he pauses at the foot of the bed. There are goosebumps all over your skin as you wait for his next direction in this game you’re both suddenly playing. 

“You want my forgiveness?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes. Please. I’m so sorry.” 

He chews on his lip and drops his gaze down to your open legs.  He groans, and you almost sigh in relief that you’re having this effect on him. 

“Earn it. Show me how much you missed me.” His voice is rougher than it has been all night, that deep and raspy tone that you enjoyed so much. You nearly gasp in delight as pleasure races through your body at the sound of it. 

Earn it. 

Splayed out naked on your shared bed, your legs spread for him and with wetness threatening to pool on the duvet under you, you know exactly how you can do that. 

Despite the nerves you feel, you take a deep breath and slowly trail your hand down your body. With one more imploring look from him, you slide your fingers through your wetness. You moan when you make contact with that bundle of nerves. 

You swirl your swollen clit in soft, slow circles, the pads of your fingers quickly becoming slick with your own arousal. Bradley never takes his eyes off of your motions and it makes you even wetter. You press down harder, knowing that the more you pleasure yourself, the more pleased he’ll be. Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled. After another moment of teasing circles, you dip your middle finger inside yourself. It’s nothing compared to how you know Bradley feels inside of you, but it’s enough to make you gasp. You arch into the feeling, immediately adding another finger. Your entrance has to stretch to accommodate them and you can’t wait for the delicious burn you’ll feel with his cock, if he even lets you feel that tonight. 

You let your eyes flutter closed the longer you pleasure yourself. You think maybe, maybe, you’ll be able to make yourself come like this. You’re climbing toward it, slowly.  

“Stop.” 

You whimper, but you do as you’re told - as you’re commanded. You withdraw your fingers and immediately your pussy clenches, wanting more. You open your eyes and moan at the site you’re greeted with. He had shed his clothes while you had gotten lost in your own touch and he stood, his cock heavy and thick in his hand, stroking slowly. You see a pearl of precum at the tip and your mouth waters, wanting to taste it. It’s been so long since you tasted him. You can’t stop yourself from crawling to the end of the bed. You’re practically drooling by the time you scramble off of it and drop to your knees in front of him. You want to reach for him and replace his hand with yours, but you stop yourself at the last second. Instead, you look up at him between your lashes. 

His gaze is hungry and predatory and focused solely on you. His chest is rising and falling quicker than it was before; he’s just as turned on as you are. 

“Please,” you whisper. You rub your thighs together to try and relieve some of the ache that you felt. “Let me earn it?” 

His eyes darken and in one quick movement, Bradley takes a step forward, letting the swollen red tip of his cock hit your lips. 

“Make it good,” he growls. You open your mouth and take him in. The taste of him mixed with the weight on your tongue and his heady scent is making you dizzy in the best of ways. You want to savor it, to just stay here on your knees and keep him warm, but you don’t want to disappoint him, so you don’t waste time. You dip forward, trying to take more of his length into your mouth. Your hands splay on his thick, muscled thighs, and with a deep inhale through your nose, you pull back before sinking forward and then repeating the motion. You take him a little deeper every time, swirling your tongue and sucking as you do. You’ve been in this position so many times before, and you quickly find the rhythm that you know he prefers. You gag when he nudges the back of your throat, but you don’t let it deter you. 

Spit trails down your chin and you know the sounds you’re making are vulgar, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You get lost in it quickly, each moan and curse from above you going straight to your own core. When his hand falls heavy to the back of your head, you think he’s going to guide your movements. You’re surprised when instead, he yanks you back by your hair. His cock falls from your mouth and you gasp. It hangs in front of your face, thick and hard and wet with your own saliva. You go to take him back between your lips but he keeps his grip firm in your hair. You don’t resist when he pulls you to your feet. 

“On the bed,” he demands, and you take some satisfaction out of how breathless he sounds. “Hands and knees. Facing the dresser.”  

You do as he says, anticipation racing through you like a trail of fire. You’re barely in his desired position when you feel him squeeze the flesh of your behind in both of his hands. “Oh god, please,” you whine, arching into his touch. Only the feeling stops, and your eyes pop open with a gasp of surprise. 

You look over your shoulder. His eyes are as dark as they’ve been, but through your lust you see a gleam in them now. Something playful and hot. It’s accompanied by a slow building grin tugging at his lips. 

“B-Bradley?” 

He tsks mockingly, giving a slow shake of his head. 

“Bra-“

His hand connects with your asscheek so harshly and so suddenly that you fall forward, barely catching yourself before face planting into the duvet. But your pussy clenches and the fire in your belly increases and the moan that escapes you is long and drawn out. He drapes himself over you, his weight pressing your entire front into the mattress in the most delicious of ways. He’s completely surrounding you and for a moment, every fiber of you relaxes, forgetting about the anger and the apology. 

But then he presses a kiss to your ear, and the words he whispers has it all rushing back. 

“Beg for it. For me.” 

You can’t turn to meet his eyes with how he’s holding you down, but when you look forward, you realize why he had specifically picked this placement. The mirror over your dresser provides a perfect visual of the two of you tangled together over your forest green duvet. You moan at the sight, and without a second thought, you do just as he requested. 

“Please, Bradley. Fuck me. I’ll do anything you want. Please. Use me. I want your cock so bad, baby. Please, please, please.” 

Pleading continues to fall from your lips, so jumbled together you lose track of what you’re saying. But Bradley delights in every word. The vein in his neck throbs as he picks himself up, hauling you back to your hands and knees. He looks so large and strong behind you and as he drags the head of his cock through your wetness, you shiver. You watch through half lidded as he lines himself up. 

And then he starts to push into you. You both moan at the feeling. It’s always amazing being with Bradley, but that initial stretch that comes with being apart for however long is something special. He’s so big that you can’t take all of him at once, but just like he knows you like, he barely pauses, inching himself in until he’s buried all the way inside of you. You sigh with pleasure and relief, finally feeling full for the first time in six weeks. 

You meet his eyes in the mirror again, and for just a second, he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. It makes all of this so worth it. “Bradley,” you whisper, softer than you had all night. You wonder if it will ruin everything, but you say the words bubbing on your tongue anyway. “I missed you so much.”

The breath he releases comes out shaky and he squeezes his eyes shut. You hold your breath as you wait, wondering if this is all about to come to an end, if your words had impacted him that much. But he shakes his head in a way that almost seems like he’s trying to rid himself of your words, and you know before he opens his eyes that you’re nowhere near done. 

“I bet you did,” he grits out, and then he pulls out almost all the way before harshly snapping back into you. 

The pace he sets is vicious, demanding everything you can give to him. The room is filled with the sounds of your fucking. It’s filthy and wet, your skin slapping together. The reflection you see in the mirror is a sight to behold. Your breasts shakes with every thrust, your necklace hitting against your skin. The veins in his arms bulge as he grips your hips. You both shine with sweat. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and your eyes close as it starts to consume you. And then all at once, you feel the sharp sting of his hand connecting with your asscheek while the other twists itself into your hair, retching you up so your back is flush with his chest. 

“You better keep those eyes open. I want you to watch while I’m fucking you. I want you to know it’s me making you feel this way. Because I’m the only one who can, aren’t I, sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, yes, only you.” 

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll never question that again.”  

He lets his teeth trail over the pulse point on your neck, biting down slightly. Another whimper falls from you. Despite being flush against him, you’re desperate to be closer. You reach an arm back, slinging it around his neck. The angle is a little awkward but you’re grateful when Bradley doesn’t seem to mind. He settles one hand on your hip while the other comes around to your front, tweaking your nipples and sliding down your sweat-slicked body.  

You aren’t prepared for his next move, and the scream you let out is ringing in your ears by the time you register it had left your lips. You clench around him as your clit throbs from the slap he just delivered. You’re desperate for the painful pleasure it caused. 

“Again,” you beg, fingers tugging at his curls. You brace yourself this time, and the sting is somehow even better. He slaps your pussy for a third time just for good measure and then sets his attention on torturing your wet, swollen clit with his fingers. You gasp lightly, only to let out another scream when he slams into you again, harder than before. 

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me,” Bradley rasps. You think you say something in return about how good he feels inside of you, but you’re to the point of pleasure where you can’t be sure. You can feel every vein and ridge of his cock as he pounds into you, fucking you in earnest. You can’t do anything but take it, and you do so gladly. The tightening in your core starts and you know you’re close. The pressure of it builds and builds with each stroke in your throbbing cunt and you know you won’t be able to keep it at bay for much longer. 

“I’m close,” you manage to choke out, feeling the need to warn him. At your words, Bradley stops, pulling out of you completely. You moan at the loss, preparing yourself for what’s coming. You expect him to deny you, or to taunt you, make you beg and plead and prove that you’ve earned it. But he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, before you have time to dwell on what you’re sure is your fate, he flips you onto your back and sheaths himself back inside of you in one smooth movement. At the same time, he presses his mouth to yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing yourself further into him. His tongue tangles with yours and it’s messy and desperate, but it’s the first time he’s kissed you since he left six weeks ago, and even more so than feeling him deep inside of you like he is, this feels like coming home. You nearly sob into the kiss. 

He’s panting harshly when he breaks away, as are you, but the look in his eye is different now. It’s more familiar, softer, and your walls flutter around him. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” he rasps, and you arch into the praise. He kisses you again, his thrusting becoming more erratic now. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come all over my cock. I need it.” 

“Bradley,” you breathe.

“I love you,” he whispers, “come for me.” 

The look of love in his eyes reflected back at you is the catalyst, but the words are truly your undoing. You scream his name as the cord inside of you snaps and you gush around him, your body nearly convulsing at how powerful of an orgasm this is. It’s six weeks of built up tension and anticipation, thinking about his return and how it would transpire. It’s six weeks of longing and missing him, and being without him. He fucks you through it the whole time, chasing his own end. Through the haze of your pleasure, you feel his thrusts become jerky and quick, and when he lets out a hoarse shout of your name, you feel his hot cum spill inside of you, filling you up. 

For a long moment, you let yourself float, completely surrounded by this feeling of relief and euphoria and home. Your breaths mingle together as he rests his forehead against yours. He places a soft kiss to your lips as you both come down from the high you reached together. And once your breathing is a little bit more controlled, he pulls back just slightly, and you watch as he glances down to where he’s still buried inside of you. The sigh he lets out is full of content. It’s reflected so clearly in his deep brown eyes when he looks at you. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says. 

You hum softly, your body tired and completely relaxed. You scratch lightly at his back, delighting in the goosebumps that appear under your touch. Your voice is hoarse from how loud you had gotten when he fucked you. “Hi, baby.” 

Bradley presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, and then another on your cheek before finally placing one against your lips, so featherlight you almost don’t feel it. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, followed by another kiss. “I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too.”

“Are you alright?” he checks, a tinge of worry filling his voice. “Was I-” 

“I’m perfect,” you cut him off before he can spiral too much and ruin the bliss that you had both fallen into. “You were perfect.” 

He nods, letting out a breath of relief. He doesn’t pull out of you yet, knowing how much both of you need the connection after he’s been away and after a scene. You had always been adventurous in bed, and role playing was one of your favorite things.And this one was intense. Instead, he shifts so you’re both laying on your sides, the front of your body flush with his, his cock still buried in your warmth.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” you breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. You flashback to six weeks ago and can’t help the shiver that goes through your body. 

--

You snuggled closer to Bradley on your shared bed, your leg sliding between his. His fingers traced shapes into your bare lower back. “Tell me how it will go again?” 

“It’s a six week no contact deployment” he told you. “And when I come home, it’ll be like we had a massive falling out before I left. And you have to earn my forgiveness. I’ll be mad at you. Degrading. And you’ll…you’ll be desperate for me.” You could feel him hardening against your stomach as he described it, and you shivered in return. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He was quiet despite being the only ones in the house, his voice nothing but a whisper floating in the space between your bodies. 

Your breath stuttered out of you and your mouth was dry. You knew this was different from anything you had ever done before. You weren’t sure you’d be able to come back from it. It made you nervous. But you couldn’t deny the heat that settled low in your tummy at the thought of going through with it, either. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered. 

“Wear the purple dress, and the necklace with my initial on it, if you’re sure,” he told you anyway, and your heart swelled, knowing he needed the extra validation. Your comfort was always his number one priority. “If you don’t have them on, I’ll know that you don’t want to act it out anymore. But if you do…” 

“Then I’ll be ready.” 

----------

Main Masterlist

Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAK!!! Keeping this a secret from you was one of the hardest things ever, I swear. The amount of times this almost got sent to you on accident...man oh man.

Thanks to @roosterforme for all of her help with this! Literally would not exist without you!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage @shanimallina87 @greatszu @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy

[lackadaisicallizard]

Attention

There’s a man talking to Evan Rosier. 

Well actually talking isn’t the right word for what he’s doing in the dark club with the swirling lights and pulsating beats. There’s one hand on Evan’s back as he leans in, closing the gap between their sweat-soaked bodies and he brushes his ear with his lips, whispering something lost to the thumping bass as it forms a steady, rhythmic heartbeat that courses through the entire space. 

No, this man isn’t just talking. He’s flirting. 

He’s not the first person that’s tried his luck with Evan tonight, or last week, or last month, or every single time he comes into Barty’s club dressed in tight clothes pressed against olive skin, dancing to the music with movements that seem to weave an irresistible spell, drawing gazes and curiosity from everyone around him. He pays them little attention though, focusing on his friends and the beat and making just enough eye contact with Barty from where he stands leaning against the bar that it’s clear he knows exactly who he is and exactly what he’s doing.  

But the difference this time with the man wearing a smug smile and far too many gold chains to even be considered fashionable- is that Evan seems to be responding. He’s leaning into the touch and smiling and placing one of his hands on the man’s hips, and as his fingers curl around the tight leather wrapped around them Barty feels his own grip his glass tighter, his knuckles straining against it as he watches the two men move together on the packed dance floor. On Barty’s dance floor. In Barty’s building, with Barty’s alcohol coursing through their veins. In fact, Barty owns everything in this building. 

Well, almost. He doesn’t own Evan Rosier. 

He wants to. 

Fuck, he wants to. 

The man leans in again and says something into Evan’s ear before moving back just enough to see his expression. Evan nods and the man moves away, letting his hand linger against his back before making his way over to the bar. Barty can hear him now as he speaks to a member of his bar staff, ordering two rum and cokes, and she moves to grab two glasses. 

The rum isn’t even out of the bottle before Barty is standing beside her, his eyes fixed on the frowning man as he speaks. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He raises his voice just loud enough to be heard above the noise.

“Wait what, why?”

Barty shrugs. “Let’s call it disrespect.” 

The man furrows his eyebrows. “Mate, I don’t even know you.” 

Barty places his hands on the bar and leans in slightly. “I really don’t give a shit mate. Get out of my club.” 

The man hesitates for a moment, his expression a mixture of indignation and confusion, before he glances back at Evan, who has stopped dancing, watching the scene unfold with dark eyes. With a huff, the man turns and navigates his way through the throngs of dancing bodies towards the exit.

Ignoring the mass of people waiting to be served, Barty moves behind the bar, preparing a mojito with expert skill born from years of practice. By the time he’s finished, Evan is standing in front of him, the expression on his face silently accusing. With a deliberate calm, Barty slides Evan’s favourite drink across the bar. 

"You deserve someone who pays attention," Barty remarks and Evan just stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable until the corner of his lips curls up into a smirk. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says as he picks up the drink and turns back to the dance floor, deftly avoiding the gaze of a girl who clearly wants him to notice her. He doesn’t, though. In fact, he continues to not notice people for long enough that they all eventually give up staring at him. 

Well, almost everyone. 

(This is written for/ dedicated to @mochafrappiccinolatte and very much inspired by/ taken from @sebbianas' genius brain.)

[kuroppiii]

  who are you wearing ? ᵕ̈       timeskip!azumane asahi x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : we forgot about ⋮⋮  fashion designer asahi wayyy ⋮⋮  too soon . . .

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛     ♡ # ~930 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ i ' ve seen the good people around on the asahi tag ask , and so i ' ve come to deliver ( i ' m actually batman 🦇 ) ”

fashion designer!asahi who knows how to sew and will patch up your clothes if you need, so delicate even if the tiny needle and thread gets engulfed in his big hands

fashion designer!asahi your laundry day superman who knows how to get any stain out of any fabric

fashion designer!asahi who wants to match outfits with you when you two go out

fashion designer!asahi who brushes out all the wrinkles in your clothes before you two head out the door

fashion designer!asahi that always needs to bring you to the shows or galas he attends bc he needs you by his side amongst all the ppl in the crowd

fashion designer!asahi who gets shy when you come home with one of his pieces or a fashion magazine you found with him on the cover bc your unbridled support always makes his heart flutter in his chest

fashion designer!asahi that never fails to mention in interviews how you are his "muse"

fashion designer!asahi who will later get all flustered when you wind up finding those interviews and read them back to him once they get published later on

fashion designer!asahi who always gets front row seats to catwalks for the two of you, where you whisper in appreciation to each other about the pieces as the models pass by

fashion designer!asahi who’s hair falls in front of his face in the midst of sketching custom designs just for you

fashion designer!asahi who sometimes has you model his prototypes around the house, and has hundreds of photos in his camera roll of you doing so

fashion designer!asahi who always ends up sweeping you off your feet and showering you with kisses whenever you're wearing something he's made

fashion designer!asahi who designed both of your wedding garments himself, as well as those for the best men and bridesmaids

       ⇩  ⇩  ⇩ 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎 ::

you give the softest of pushes against the handle of asahi's home studio door. careful not to make a sound, you peer your head in to see all the lights are off, except for the light from his desk's lamp.

you quietly step in a bit more, the sound of pencil scratching and pastels smearing vibrant colors onto asahi's creative visions reaching your ears. every now and then, he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose since his head is hung so low in concentration.

as not to scare him, you call out softly, "'sahiii."

like instinct, his head whips around to the sound of your voice, and when he calls back you can hear the grogginess sleep has laced into his voice, "oh hello honey."

"it's getting late," you say as you saunter over behind him, resting your head on the top of his and draping your arms around his broad shoulders.

"i know," he coos. the sound of etching drifts into the still night air again as he can't resist adding a few more lines to the curve of a dress on his paper, "but i want to get these done so we can start fittings as soon as possible. fabrics in some of these colors might take longer than expected to arrive before the ceremony. trust me, i know."

you look out into the sea of drawings scattered across his desk, and your heart swells at the thought of those you love wearing such amazing works of art on your special day. the thought makes you tighten your arms around him to pull him closer, and you feel his free hand reaching up to squeeze one of your arms affectionately, as his other hand reaches for a colored pencil to shade in part of his sketch.

"why does everything you make have to be so perfect," you jokingly sulk, reaching out to run your fingertips along some silky fabric samples occupying a corner of asahi's desk.

you can feel the tiny rumble of his soft laughter beneath you, "not true."

you peel yourself off of him and crouch down next to where he sits in his chair. you take your hand and take the colored pencil out of his hand, before gently holding his face in your two palms, fingers brushing his brown hair out from his face.

"very true, actually," you correct him in a whisper. and even though his facial features are very visually tired, the smile that grows on his face as he's looking at you still manages to meet his lidded eyes. you feel his larger hands place themselves over yours, and feel the cold metal of his engangement ring tickle at your left hand.

the feeling makes you giddy and a small fit of sleepy and loopy laughter starts bubbling out of you, but asahi lovingly cuts it off, leaning in to leave an affectionate kiss on your lips.

he tastes like dark roasted coffee and beeswax chapstick. his fancy cologne lingers even when you finally pull apart, the one you suprised him with when one of his pieces made it into one of the big showcases for the first time. it mixes with one of the many scents he's gifted you in return since then. (he loves to spoil you, it really being one of the only reasons he mingles with other designers at events, so he can later get linked up with the best stuff to give to you.)

you both smile against each other. just you, your soon-to-be husband, and the many manifestations of his love for you scattered around his studio.