#you’re mine now

[lostinlewis]

You're Mine Now...

Rating: M

Words: 1562

There was no mistaking what woke you, it wasn’t the usual soft snores of the man that lay beside you, nor was it the twitching of his big arm wrapped around you, it was the hardening inside of you, the part of him that begged for you to wake before even he had awoken himself.

The hardening was slow but still just as breathtaking as it was when it was any quicker, even completely soft, Lewis was bigger than any man you had ever experienced, his hardening only made him more so. 

His arm tightened its hold around you as your breathing grew shallow, he was almost fully hard now, so full inside of you that you felt yourself stretch to near unimaginable lengths, yet every second you had to wait for his final form felt like a tease.

You slid your fingers in between his, hoping that might make him stir from his slumber, yet he still breathed against the back of your neck like he was deep in sleep, in what sounded like the most blissful of sleeps.

It was only as you felt him reach peak hardness, the heaviness of him inside of you drawing your hips back towards him for comfort, that you felt the ever so soft kisses on your skin; Lewis was awake. 

He had fallen asleep inside of you, a thing that both of you needed for comfort, neither one of you felt content with just skin on skin contact during the night, when the longing for each other had lasted for days and days of his absence, there was nothing at all you both could do to make yourself feel at peace more than you did with him inside of you. 

You rolled your hips just slightly, just enough to draw out the breathiest of moans from him as he still laced your skin with the laziest of kisses with your fingers locked together too. It was just before he dared to play with you more, just before his need to take control of the situation became too overwhelming, that his other hand fell to your hip.

Slowly, ever so very slowly, Lewis began to fuck into you. His thrusts were a mere matter of need more than hurry, thrusting just enough to make you feel him hit the spot you needed him to, whilst making sure to not do anything but smother you in tenderness.

It didn’t matter his pace, pace was always irrelevant to how good he made you feel, you could do nothing to stop yourself from falling into the space Lewis always brought you to, the space where you were in sensory overload, the space where the only thing you could remember existed was him, and all you could do was moan out how grateful you were. 

His hand drew up from your hip just so he could play with your nipple, tweaking it between his finger and thumb with enough carelessness to make you shriek, as his kisses rose to find the crook of your neck now. 

Lewis was panting, his breath rapid and heavy despite the fact he was barely moving at all, he was overworked by just the mere feel of inside of you. 

“You are so fucking perfect.” 

He mumbled the words against your skin between kisses and he meant them too, you could feel it in the way he was unable to not shower you with love and from the way he throbbed inside of you, to him you were the most perfect thing he had ever seen, and he showed you how lucky he felt with every stroke. 

Your head rolled back into his instinctively, despite him being inside of you, still your body craved being closer to him more. 

“That feels good doesn’t it, baby?” 

You could feel his eyes burning into your face as he watched every little reaction you made to his doing, yet he made it impossible for you to open your own to meet them. 

“So good…always, so fucking good…” 

Lewis freed his other hand from the restraint of your fingers just so he could cup your cheek, turning your head just enough that your lips could meet. 

His thrusts grew heavy now, weighted with such an overwhelming desire of complete contradiction, he wanted you to finish but he never wanted to finish himself. If Lewis could have picked only one thing to do for the rest of his days, doing you would be his choice, that was for certain. 

As your tongues danced and your lips worked together to the perfect rhythm you opened your weary eyes just barely, just enough to catch his gaze to tell him all of the things you were too breathless to say. He felt it, he heard it, he knew just how you felt as he felt it too. 

“I need more of you.” 

Lewis groaned his words as he moved rapidly from being behind you, the urgency purely in the sense of loss he felt the moment he was out of you. His hands gripped your knees as he pushed them apart to make space for his body, they brushed down to hold your thighs as he collapsed onto you, finding his home within you once more. 

“Mmm, that’s better. Now I get to look at your pretty face properly as I make you cum.” 

You locked your ankles around his waist as he let his whole weight engulf you, he was so heavy yet you never felt a greater sense of calm than when the weight of Lewis restricted your breathing. 

“You feel so…so…” 

Lewis smiled at your inability to speak coherently as he began to pound into you now, his pace so much more rapid, his thrusts so much harder too. 

“So deep…I know, baby…I need to be deep inside of you…” 

His voice was nothing more than a growl now, a weighted growl filled with the struggle he had to stop himself from finishing constantly as he fucked you. Never before had he had this fight within himself, it was only with you that he felt it, you were his kryptonite in bed, yet he often won the battle eventually. 

“Are you-” 

Lewis stopped your words with his tongue finding yours once more, he knew what you were going to ask, he had heard you beg for it every day for months now, yet he wanted to surprise you, he wanted your wishes to be granted with actions not words. 

The intensity that he pounded you with now was consistent, it was fast, he knew he had you in a state teetering on falling apart with every single stroke yet he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. 

“You want me to, don’t you?” 

“Please Lewis, it will feel so good…” 

He chuckled at your attempt to convince him to do the one thing he held back from doing to you so far, your nails drawing up his back to tickle the little hairs on the nape of his neck sent a shiver up his spine. 

“I know it will, it will feel so fucking good to fill you up…”

“Do it, please…please…” 

Lewis had you on the brink now, you could feel your orgasm waiting for the one stroke placed perfectly to make you explode, he could feel the ripples of your undoing edging closer too. 

“You want me to make you mine in every way, don’t you? You want me to breed you so everyone knows who you belong to, you want me to make you carry my child so you will always be mine, don’t you?” 

“Please…please…shit…oh god…please…” 

Lewis knew those words would send you to the brink with little else needed and he was right, hearing him say things you had dreamt of for so long, teasing a fantasy you had wanted for as long as you had known him, was exactly what it would take to have you reach your peak.

“Milk me, pretty girl…make me cum inside of you…” 

His words were strained as he fought an unwinnable fight, you squeezed him so tightly as he fucked sloppily into you until he was left with no option but to finally allow himself the sweet release that was finishing inside of you. 

In the midst of your own undoing you struggled to focus until you saw him rise up on his arms to leverage enough strength to thrust one last time, that one last thrust made him hit the deepest he had inside of you yet, as he let out an almighty roar and that was when you felt it. 

It felt like waves, like neverending waves of warmth lacing your walls as he orgasmed so ferociously, so violently, his whole body shook whilst he moaned loudly out into the air before collapsing back on top of you, his lazy kisses returning to your now clammy skin as shockwaves rippled through your body and his too, both of you twitching as you clung to each other tightly. 

“You’re mine now, always mine…” 

Lewis’ words would have sounded different had they been said by anyone else in the world, but when they came from him, when they were decorated in his beautiful voice, nothing had ever sounded sweeter to you. 

“It’s what I have always wanted, Lewis. I want to be yours, always.” 

[eminemily05]

I had a dream about this spunky little guy. Where he came from? I don’t know, but I couldn’t help but want to draw him.

He’s (very clearly) a Fellswap variant. From there, I have no other ideas.

[lunarw0rks]

baby don’t worry about expenses ILL PAY. i wanna be on your roster feeding you lobster and pasta!!

COME SIGN THIS BABYGIRL *slides love contract*

[stealingyourbones]

Every day i read a post where people write that “Bruce Wayne has an adoption problem” or that Danny is adoption bait on the first second of seeing him, not even knowing if he has a want of vengeance and a sad backstory and parallels to Bruce, and every day I want to softly cry in a corner.

[karalovesallthegirls]

Also have another “first words spoken to you are on your skin” soulmate AU idea where Kara is a journalist assigned to shadow the controversial CEO of L-Corp for the day. It’s a big deal for her to get this assignment, so of course she trips the second she’s near the other woman and tries awkwardly to redeem herself.

The CEO stares at her almost in shock, and then says nothing. At all. Ever, for the entire day.

Kara spends hours following Lena Luthor around trying to fill the silence, but no amount of questions get her to talk. Lena almost seems to be running away at some points - like she’s trying to lose her? - and the few times she’s managed to catch her actually talking to someone she goes silent the second she sees Kara.

She asks around if Miss Luthor is usually like this and everyone looks at her like she’s crazy. Apparently she’s the only one who gets the silent treatment. By the end of her first day shadowing she’s walking away with half a page of observations and not a single quote. Miss Grant is going to kill her.

But that’s okay. It’s fine, this isn’t over. She has four days of shadowing ahead of her and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t finish this with a quote from the woman herself. It’s only a matter of time.

[theloveinc]

Almost everything Giulio Gandini does is methodical—

The way he brews his tea, when you’re together and he insists upon a pot of hot water and his own sachet of loose leaves for steeping.

The way he makes your bed, with fluffed pillows and crisp sheets, the edges always cut where he’s folded the linen into the mattress to keep it secure…

And the way he finger fucks you, every night before bed, with your legs splayed open on top of clean, white sheets, and his warm body nestled into your side, mahogany hair loose around his face, hot against his neck.

He near cradles you in his lap, thick fingers (always his own flesh, never the prosthetic) rubbing warmth into your core, making sure you’re sopping before ever trying to enter you. Giulio seems to know your pussy better than you do, as by the time he’s two fingers deep, your thighs are already aching, strained from taking the shock of the two, three orgasms he was already able to glean from you with such little sweat on his behalf.

By now, this night time activity is routine, as is so much of the way your household with him is run, which is why you still scold yourself for not lasting longer at his behest, even if it is all for the sake of you—

(Never is he trying to torture you, more so just show love to you in ways much more specific than words can get, and maybe tire you out for a better night’s rest, at the same time—)

But every time you think you’ve become immune to the curl of his fingers, the press of his thumb against your clit, he manages another something else to have you writhing—first it was the scissoring of his fingers, then the addition of a third digit, and then the heel of his palm smashing into you, the list goes on—though his skill is methodical, well practiced and deliberately timed, Giulio is far from afraid of surprising you, especially if it ends in such a sweet reward.

(Often the wetting of the front of his boxers, from his own cum or the overzealous release of yours—you’ve never quite squirted with other partners the way Giulio can make you, and still manage to stop most of it from hitting your sheets, either by catching it with his tongue or letting it seep into his own clothing.)

He never lets you finish, finally, knuckles deep, without a kiss. Deep and guided, he kisses you until you’re left panting into his mouth, kisses you until you can’t reciprocate any longer, and kisses you until he’s left to do the work up kissing up your tears, instead.

By then, you’re much too caught up in the aftershocks of him, cunt still throbbing in his hands, to do anything more than let him soothe the white numbness of your near overstimulation in any which way he pleases. Sometimes that means running you both a bath (he could never not join you in the tub after such intimacy), soothing your aching body with a hot washcloth and a pot of fresh tea, or cuddling you until the sun rises.

Regardless, in such afterglow, you let him hold you until your breathing is back to normal and you can look him in the eye again and smile that tired little smile, the one he loves so much. All before he slips into bed beside you; a dutiful servant, giving til his last breath.

[raplinenthusiasts]

💐 @cordiallyfuturedwight

{© namuspromised}

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

seventeen months of kim seokjin messages for @jinstronaut

inspired by jin's monthly messages and em's daily gif series ♡

[captainsavre]

Marina - firsts and lasts from each season ↳ SCENE (3x05//3x16; 4x01//4x16; 5x01//5x18; 6x01//6x18; 7x01//7x10)

[story-thief]

YOURE RIGHT. IT WAS NEVER EVEN YOUR CHOICE TO BEGIN WITH.

*carefully yet swiftly scoops you up before marching off into the woods*

and now to add you to my collection!!

YOU THERE! GIANT!

You have been selected to hold me.

THAT WASNT A HEKKIN REQUEST

[videodrme]

ROBOCOP (1987) dir. Paul Verhoeven

[dosomethingbabe]

you’re losing me — t.s

[nnicknnelsonn]

can I open my eyes

{prev} so in love {next}

[officialgleamstar]

when the character is overly attached or strange about their name to the extent that it’s pointed out by other characters

[raplinenthusiasts]

boyfriend <3

for @outroindigo

[dayas]

"i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?" + fiyeraba!!!

Perfect for them LMAO

quiet acts of love prompts

—

As usual, Elphaba Thropp was in the library. Studying was a serious business, and since the arrival of Fiyero Tigelaar to Shiz University, the students seemed more preoccupied with their so-called shallow ‘fun’ than their actual studies. All the better for her — she had her pick of areas to study in, little to no wait for any of the rare (and less rare) books, and the lovely peace and quiet to which she was accustomed. Elphaba didn’t mind solitude — it was what she had grown up with, what she was most comfortable with. Her friends preferred noisier environments, though Fiyero was a toss up. Sometimes, she swore he threw himself into a fray because plunging headlong into chaos was easier than sitting with the realities he was trying so hard to avoid. Other times, she was certain his reputation preceded him. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that the real him shined through in the quieter moments. When their fingers would brush as he handed her a textbook in between classes, or when he would slow down to speak to her in the hallways. The way his gaze would linger on her for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary (and how her cheeks would burn the moment he looked away).

Sometimes, she wondered if he meant any of it.

Elphaba returned her attention to the book before her. She was seated in her favorite spot in the library, a little nook tucked away in the corner, surrounded by all her studying materials. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the presence of another person until a quiet throat clearing drew her eyes upwards.

Before her stood Fiyero, clutching a bouquet of poppies.

How confusifying, Elphaba thought.

“Fiyero?” Elphaba said, “What are you doing?”

The look in his eyes told her he thought it was obvious.

“I brought you flowers.”

She blinked.

“For what?”

“There has to be reason?”

“Yes? People don’t just bring me flowers.” To her, that much was obvious. Understanding brightened his eyes, darkening his cheeks ever so slightly also.

“I saw these and thought of you.”

Something in her face must have spurred him on to say, “I remember you mentioned they were your favorite, and I was out with Feldspur earlier and I just thought you might like them.”

“Oh,” came Elphaba’s hushed response, “oh.” Her hands extended outward, carefully taking the bouquet from him. She inspected it, a smile lifting the edges of her lips.

“These are perfect,” she said, her heart fluttering when his shoulders sagged forward slightly in relief. “Thank you, Yero.”

He raised his eyebrows at the nickname, grinning.

“Don’t,” she warned him, “don’t ruin it.”

“I wouldn’t ruin this for all the world, Fae.”

“Do you ever take a break from flirting, Tigelaar?”

“Not with you, Thropp. That isn’t something that particularly interests me.”

She huffed out a laugh, her usual disbelief replaced with pure amusement.

“Don’t you have some mischievous happenings or other to get back to?”

Her prompt came after staring into his eyes for longer than necessary, spoken in a half strained voice. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t hers. They were friends, yes, but she had no idea whether or not he was still with Galinda or not. And yes, they were just flowers, but even if she had never received them before (not that he needed to know that), she’d seen them arrive at her and Galinda’s room, gifts from her legion of admirers.

For a split second, she almost thought his lips were about to form the word ‘no’. Then she remembered she knew better, even if, for some reason, something inside her didn’t seem to.

His nod seemed resigned, halfway melancholy.

“I do, yeah.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Nothing that can’t wait, though.”

“Fiyero.”

“Don’t argue with me, Elphaba. I want to.”

She hid her smile by biting down on her lip.

“I’ll argue with you if I want to argue with you.”

He sat himself down next to her, careful not to disturb any of her materials.

“All this time we’ve spent together and I still can’t get a word in.”

“You just got in about fourteen, so, that’s not true.”

They continued on in their way, until the clock struck the midnight hour.

“Oh my Oz,” Elphaba said, “is it really that late?”

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Fiyero offered.

“I can walk myself fine.”

“I know that, Elphaba.”

His tone was patient, a far cry from the patronizing shades many others painted themselves in when it came to her.

He continued, “Just because you can do it alone doesn’t mean you have to.”

Slowly, Elphaba nodded at him. She didn’t protest when he gathered her things, nor when he offered her his arm. She took it, tucking herself slightly into his side and allowing herself to pretend, for a few brief moments, that this too was commonplace. They didn’t speak much on the way back to her dormitory, though plenty was said in the press of her cheek against his sleeve, and of his chin down on the top of her head. She stayed against him, her eyes briefly closing as she breathed.

She wanted to tell him she couldn’t see him tomorrow, but she quickly realized that was futile. She couldn’t keep herself away from him no matter how hard she tried. And oh, she had tried. The library also happened to be a place Fiyero tended to avoid. Only, he had been appearing more frequently recently, dropping by at random times to chat with her during her study sessions, bringing her little snacks and drinks, and now, flowers.

She opened her eyes, looking down at the petals with a quiet sigh.

She was absolutely, one hundred percent, irrevocably fucked.

“Goodnight.”

Her whisper was barely audible. She forced herself to detach, to stand in front of her door instead of by his side, to not mourn the loss of his warmth too deeply.

“Goodnight, Fae.”

He turned away from her, all set to return to his room.

The word, “Wait,” was barely out of her mouth before her fingers encircled his wrist and she paled a kiss against his cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Elphaba whispered against his skin.

Before he could say anything, she whirled, opening her door, entering her room and shutting it again in three seconds flat.

It wasn’t until she looked down at her hands that she realized she still had the flowers, but none of her studying materials. Elphaba dragged herself over to her side of the room, placing the poppies into a clear vase and watering them. She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed.

See you tomorrow indeed, she thought. Now she would have to wake up early to get her things from him before anyone saw and started asking questions or worse — spreading rumors.

That was, however, tomorrow’s problem.

Tonight, she was grateful for all she had been given.