#muses drabble

[comatosebunny09]

When your breasts are tender and sore during your luteal phase, Sylus draws you into his lap on your couch and slides his hands under your shirt to cup them.

“What are you doing?” you half-snort, your spine acquainting itself with his chest.

He buries his nose in the hollow of your shoulder, inhaling your warm scent. His lips curve against it. “I recall someone telling me that heat helps curb the pain.”

You shut your eyes, exhaling slowly. Come to think of it, his palms do feel absolutely wonderful. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.”

“Sap,” you laugh.

He lightly squeezes your breasts in warning, thumbs teasingly sliding over the pucker of your nipples. The sensation shoots straight to the pleasant space between your thighs.

“Keep being mean to me, and I’ll leave you to suffer alone, kitty-cat.”

You both know his threat is hollow.

[cosmic-evening]

the most beautiful thing about IWAIZUMI HAJIME is not his face, although it comes quite close.

it's his quiet care.

if you'd asked yourself six months ago, you would have laughed. iwaizumi hajime, the one who throws volleyballs at oikawa, kind-hearted? even now, you can't quite believe it.

but it's real, the sweet texts he sends you every morning. the heartfelt flowers in your locker. the handwritten notes on your desk as you sleepily make your way to class. the feeling of his hand enveloping yours whenever you're together.

it's real.

he's real.

and you couldn't be luckier for it.

hq m.list | gen m.list

[mostly-marvel-musings]

How about “nope no nada, no using sex to get me to do things you want, it’s not going to work anymore” + using sex to get our favorite insomniac Mr. Stank to take a break from work and come to bed?

Old tricks

A/N: I was waiting for this prompt, can’t believe it was in my inbox the whole time and I missed it. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: 18+ sex themes, fluff

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“How long has it been since he last took a nap, FRI?” You sighed, closing the book you were currently reading before stifling a yawn.

Thirty eight hours and counting, Mrs. Stark.

He was at it again. After promising that he would join you in bed early today, Tony Stark was still in the basement, nose deep in inventing yet another device that would potentially save the universe.

Rolling your eyes you threw the sheets off of your legs, rummaging through your closet to find the oldest trick in the book of ‘Getting your husband to obey’.

A set of lingerie was usually your go to but tonight, you decided on going down to his lab wearing nothing but a silky robe that you planned on discarding the moment he would lay eyes on you.

Overriding his protocol with FRIDAY’S help, you entered his lab and were met with an immediate blast of cold air; it fortunately worked in your favour, pebbling your nipples and making them evident against the flimsy piece of fabric.

Your husband stood hunched over his table that displayed varied diagrams and models with a blue glowing light that made his features appear exhausted. He probably was. Not that he would ever admit.

“Hello husband.”

You murmured, hugging the man from behind and wrapping your arms around his middle, feeling his tight muscles against your soft flesh, the contrast making you frown.

Tony sighed, melting against your touch immediately, as his hands stopped working to cover yours in a reassuring way.

“Are you planning on warming your side of the bed any time soon? Perhaps your wife would like some company too..”

Turning in your arms, he leaned in to kiss your lips in a wordless apology before stopping, his strained eyes grazing down your form, taking you in.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“What?” You feigned innocence, grabbing his hands and bringing them to the front of your robe, beginning to unfasten the ties.

Letting out a defeated grunt, Tony’s head planted itself against your shoulder, stopping your movements at once.

“Nope. No. Nada. No using sex to get me to do things you want, it’s not going to work anymore.” You grinned because his voice lacked conviction, and the fact that he hadn’t pushed you away meant you had already won.

“Isn’t it?”

You smirked, undoing the belt completely now to reveal what the robe barely covered. Opening an eye, Tony drank your glorious self in, not finding enough reason to resist. With your nipples turned into buds and the glistening between your thighs, he was powerless.

Tony Stark simply wasn’t built to resist your persuasion.

Taking the robe off completely, you stepped back and turned to head out of his lab, throwing the robe over the shoulder with a knowledge that it had probably landed on his head.

“You’re just gonna wander around the house naked now?” He called after you, cock stirring in his pants at the sight of your curves sashaying their way out, just for him as you shrugged in response.

“Maybe I’ll try another good old trick. Perhaps that toy you designed for our anniversary?”

There was a curse word uttered under his breath before Tony Stark shut off his lab for the night and made a beeline in your direction, refusing to let his wife pleasure herself with anything that wasn’t his cock or tongue.

Find Part 2 here!

[home-of-renn]

AU where Danny never tells Sam and Tucker about the portal accident but they eventually put together the pieces after Danny starts acting hella weird. Especially around his parents.

They eventually figure it out but can't seem to decide whether their friend is actually dead or if there's something else going on. They inadvertently become ghost experts while playing detective, while also simultaneously trying their best to help Danny from the shadows without him finding out that they found out.

Bonus points if they have to fend off Jazz with a stick cause she knows something's up and she knows that Sam and Tucker know but Sam and Tucker keep covering their tracks and doing their best to throw her off the scent.

Bonus, bonus points if Jazz knows that there's something very messed up going on and desperately wants to know what happened to her brother but Sam and Tucker think she's on her parent's side and are convinced that she'll just report back to them if she ever finds out.

Bonus, bonus, bonus points! if Jazz just has this deep, gut-wrenching feeling that she can't tell her parents about her suspicions and that there's something increasingly disturbing about both her parents and Danny's behaviour as well as how the three of them interact after the portal got turned on. She does her best to keep her parent's attention off of Danny, which kinda helps but also inadvertently gets in the way of Sam and Tucker's helping.

Bonus, bonus, bonus, bonus points!!!!! if Maddie and Jack have acquired some very mild ecto contamination from being in such close proximity with the portal on a daily basis and their continued exposure is making them slowly exhibit Obsession-like behaviours about their work and research, which consequentially results in their attitudes/behaviours becoming increasingly more disturbing and concerning from an outside perspective.

[magicalmutants]

Gojo who’s so pathetic with longing for you, his pretty and oblivious best friend. Gojo who pays attention to every little thing about you, from the way you look when you laugh to the way you apply your chapstick. Gojo who swipes your vanilla flavored chapstick from your room one day when you’re not looking. Gojo who puts your chapstick on later, alone in his room with his door locked. Gojo who imagines that it’s your lips he’s tasting as his tongue flickers across his own. Gojo who whines and bucks into his fist, imagining the feeling and taste of your mouth on his as he licks your chapstick off his shiny, pink lips.

[softvalentines]

mother mae, could i please request nightwing with a older or milf reader?

pairing: dick grayson x reader cw: smut, afab reader, older!reader, faint mentions of overstimulation

dick grayson is used to being the one people fall apart over.

all that easy charm, boy-next-door smile paired with a body carved by a lifetime of rooftop chases and back-alley fights. he’s cocky without meaning to be — too pretty, too practiced at it. but with you… you don’t fall for the act. you see it for what it is — a boy desperate to be wanted, someone who runs himself ragged trying to be enough for everyone, all the time.

and fuck if that doesn’t make him ache for you.

because you don’t melt when he flashes that grin. you don’t trip over yourself to flirt back. you arch an eyebrow when he drops some cheap line, let the silence hang thick and heavy between you, just long enough for him to fidget. and when you do touch him — fingers curling into his hair, dragging along the sharp line of his jaw — he goes pliant under your hands in an instant, breath hitching like he’s already half hard from it.

it’s the boyishness in him you ruin so beautifully. he doesn’t know how to handle someone older, someone who knows better, knows exactly how to work him open without even trying. you catch him lingering around your place for no reason, stretched out across your couch like a stray cat, his legs spread careless, bulge shamelessly outlined in those tight tactical sweats he pretends he doesn’t wear on purpose. he’ll tug at your wrist, coax you into his lap with a pout, nuzzle into your neck with that desperate little “missed you, y’know”, voice soft and a little breathless.

he gets worse in bed.

starts out cocky, smug little grin on his lips as he peels his shirt off, making a show of it. but the second your hand wraps around his throat, not even squeezing, just holding him there, thumb brushing the frantic pulse under his jaw — his breath stutters. eyes go wide and glassy, lips parting in a soft, needy gasp.

you take your time with him. spread him out on his back, all those tight, lean muscles tensing under your touch, shivering when your fingers skim over the cut of his hips. you can feel how badly he wants to squirm, hips twitching up into your hand, cock heavy and flushed against his stomach, leaking thick beads of precum that you smear lazily across his head with your thumb.

he whines when you drag your palm down the length of him, when you tease the tip with slow, wet circles, pre cum rolling down like tears. “please,” he pants, voice cracking, lashes fluttering as his head tips back. “please, wanna be inside you, lemme—fuck, lemme feel you, please.”

he says please so sweet it makes your stomach twist.

you don’t make it easy. sink down onto him slowly, savoring the way his mouth drops open, his whole body going taut beneath you. the stretch makes him whimper, and when you bottom out, you can feel the tremor that runs through him, like his brain short-circuits from the sheer overwhelm of it.

“good boy,” you murmur against his ear, dragging your nails down his chest. 

he melts. hips stuttering up to chase every grind of your hips, hands clutching at your waist like he’ll die if you pull away. his voice goes high and cracked when you roll your hips just right, pressing down until you can feel the faintest bulge of him low against your stomach.

you grab his wrist, drag his hand down to feel it.

“there,” you tell him, lips brushing his flushed ear. “can you feel yourself?”

and he moans, shivering all over, nodding so fast his hair sticks to his forehead, slick with sweat. “yeah—fuck, yeah, right there, can’t—feels so fuckin’ good—”

by the time he cums, it’s messy. loud. his hips jerking up uncontrollably, hot, thick spurts spilling inside you while he buries his face in your chest, muffling those soft, broken sobs against your skin.

and you don’t let up. grind down on him through it, murmur filthy praise in his ear, let him ride it out, overstimulated and wrecked, clinging to you like he’ll fall apart without you there to hold him together.

after, he’s a goddamn mess. flushed and trembling, eyes glassy and wet when he blinks up at you. curls into your side, nuzzling against you like a cat desperate for warmth, fingers stroking lazy, possessive shapes against your stomach.

[rori-is-writing]

Hi I’m totally an inconspicuous individual who never asks anything on anon short of secret Santa. Totally not the chick in your DMs 23 hours a day.

That said, drabble request for Robby x Abbot x OC or reader please. Kink of your choice. I trust you’ll do right by our doctor daddies. 😌

[ Wow, hi new friend I’ve definitely never met before! Can I just say you have impeccable taste in daddies—I mean doctors? Please accept this gift of pure filth to christen our new friendship. 😌 ]

Good Girl

The Pitt | Explicit | Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader x Dr. Abbot | 215 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot have a little afternoon delight with their favorite person. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Female Reader, Praise Kink

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Getting the three of you together was as much of a magic trick as it was a carefully choreographed logistical nightmare. Between your conflicting schedules and commitments, you were lucky if you all saw each other more than twice a month. 

But when you did…well…

The visits were certainly memorable. 

“Good girl.”

The words were like a drug, softening your spine and clouding your senses. Robby knew exactly what those words did to you and he was clearly more than happy to take advantage as he eased his way inside of you. 

(He was just lucky you were lying on your back or else your knees would’ve given out by now.)

“Mmm, she is, isn’t she?” Abbot chimed in, a wickedly playful smile on his face as his fingers rubbed torturous little circles into your clitoris. You spied his other hand squeezing that beautiful, swollen cock of his and moaned. 

“Please,” you whine pitifully, cunt contracting and toes curling as Robby’s cock continued to tunnel its way in—in—in—

“Mmm,” Robby grunted, finally bottoming out. “There we go.” 

“Oh look at you,” Abbot cooed at you like an overindulged pet. “Don’t you feel so much better now? All filled up?” 

Your only reply is a shivery groan. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Next Drabble | The Muse Masterlist

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Thanks for reading! 🫶

[totallynotashieldagent]

falling for jason todd happens slowly and then all at once

it starts with lazy pre-patrol Friday evenings. he knows you don't have work in the morning so he stays for a snack before heading out.

it turns into "hey wanna watch a movie?" which turns into "I'm ordering food for us" and then you're lying on the couch at other ends but your feet are in his lap as top gun plays on the TV and he doesn't even realize he's doing it but he's rubbing the tension out of your heels.

it turns into "oh my office has a workshop for first aid happening" and you take it because you figure you should know how to patch him up after the bad nights

that turns into him showing up on a Tuesday night, which NEVER happens but he's on edge and he's anxious and he doesn't know what else to do and he just needs a hug and you do it.

you hold him until he stops shaking and he falls asleep on you like a weighted blanket.

maybe in hindsight, that is where it all started. waking up in a mess of limbs and untangling yourself, pushing him off until he falls on the ground and you laugh before leaving to get ready for work and... he doesn't leave. he's there when you come back in the evening because he just- he doesn't have an answer except, he didn't want to go.

you shrug and say you don't mind and you continue with your evening errands and chores and he orders food and during it all you realize how... domestic this all is.

it's a wednesday evening and he knows gotham is waiting for him but tonight...just tonight, he wasn't something calm, something normal.

the air is thick but neither of you address it. and he leaves eventually with unsaid words and confusion hanging in his mind.

the routine of friday night hangouts continue but every touch is more.. electric and neither of you say anything because you really do think that it's just in YOUR mind and the other doesn't feel that way at all.

it goes on for weeks and weeks until the tension gets so bad that you're snapping at each other for even breathing too loud but still you're in the same space because you can't handle the thought of being a part

it goes on for an embarrassing long time because even though the love is requited, you're both just fucking idiots

it goes on until a bad patrol night and he shows up with a bunch of knives sticking out of his back and instead of going to a safehouse or alfred, he's here. with you. and your hands are shaking because this surgery level shit and you took a BASIC aid workshop. you're crying silently as you do your best to fix him even with the Lazarus healing kicking in and you keep whispering to yourself "not yet not yet not like this not like this not before I can say-"

and everything just ...freezes

"Before what?" He rasps, his breath laboured and hard

"It's nothing-" You whisper and continue to bandage him

so he twists his back and looks at you, asking again.

"Before what?" His eyes are glowing green as his wounds are slowly starting to heal under your fingertips. "Please-" He strains. "Before what?"

"Before I can be brave enough-" You swallow, your shaking hands pressed against the bandage of his back

"Brave enough for...?" He whispers, his eyes darting across your face, memorizing every feature. Your eyes, your Cupid's bow, your parted lips-

"For this-" You finally take a leap and press your lips to his.

Drabble Master List.

[lorelune]

(@habibisagi made a post about lovesick oliver and now I'M sick. enjoy some lovesick jealously🩷 minors dni)

you and oliver and good (banger) sex immediately but it's not like… the best he's ever had. but he likes you quite a bit and you're sweet but not too clingy. he even thinks about asking you to be his girlfriend after a few hookups but decides against it.

i think it's like. a slow burn for him. like he's still seeing other people and the sex with them is good but like… not quite as good. because it's not you, actually, and he's never had that before which is weird for him.

after one of your hookups, you get coffee together (something you've never done before) and he thinks the little scrunch between your brows while you decide on a drink is … cute. you sit together in a toasty booth and banter like a couple and it's like. really good. he's done this before with other partners but it's not quite the same.

it escalates from there. he brings you a treat when he goes to your place to hookup, instead of his. your cat warms up to him super quickly, and he's kinda charmed by it. you both get a bit cuddlier after sex and it's not weird, it just feels natural.

it all comes to a head as you're planning your next tryst. oliver is at the airport, waiting for a checked bag having just returned home.

"tonight?" you sound grainy from the phone speaker. "i can't, sorry."

"busy?"

"something like that."

"oh?" his tone curls and he snatches his bag from the conveyor belt, his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. "what do you have on the docket?"

you're quiet for a moment. "i've got a date."

it feels like a cold shock to his chest. oliver nearly drops his phone.

"a date, huh?"

"yeah." you sound moderately unbothered on the phone. a tinge sheepish, maybe, but maybe oliver's imagining that through the icy hot feeling dripping down his body.

"with who?" his tone sounds normal enough. he's probably saving face.

"some guy that my friend knows. he's seems nice, at least through text."

"that's nice. what are you two getting up to?

"getting coffee, at that cafe we tried in the winter. low stress, you know?"

oliver feels his hands tightening into fists. that's your spot--

"sounds nice. what's the lucky guy's name?'

you're quiet for a moment, then laugh. "why do you want to know, oliver? you gonna track the guy down to give him a background check?"

"i wasn't planning on it, but that's not a bad idea." he laughs, leaning against one of the pillars near the luggage carousel. the crowd blurs together. "just curious. i gotta see how i'm loaning you out to."

you are silent on the other side of the line.

"'loaning me out?'"

"yeah, you know? it's best to make sure you're staying safe."

"i'm not yours, oliver, let alone to ‘loan out’."

"aren't you?"

you curse, then laugh. "oh my god, don't tell me, you're jealous?"

oliver doesn't have a reply. because you're right. he is jealous. crazy jealous and he can feel sweat dripping down his neck from the adrenaline rush that has hit me.

(he's never given a shit about losing a partner before. they come and go. he's never cared about womanizing or whoring around because sex is sex and sex is fun and pleasurable for all parties involved. yet the idea of you doing a fraction of what he has, notoriously, done is sending him spiraling.)

(actually, when was the last time he saw someone... other than you? some girls flirted with him at the bar last night, but he went home alone. he texted you before bed and spent his last wakeful moments ogling a photo you sent. it was a photo of your cat playing with a new toy. incidentally, you took it kneeling in front of your floor length mirror (that he has not fucked you in front of enough, actually). the photo captured you in your very cute pajamas.)

(normally, you wear satin bits to bed that get discarded once you hit the sheets, anyways. oliver prefers you naked, and you're far too fucked out to care by the time he's done with you to want anything other than skin-to-skin contact with him. he's still used to the getups though. he still thinks they're cute.)

(this photo, however? you're in house clothes. some stupidly baggy pants that drag on the floor and an oversized tee shirt that you swim it, going down to your mid thighs. it's worn, any text having faded from the fabric. the sock you're wearing are fuzzy and white with a heart pattern on them. your face is mostly obscured in the photo, but he can tell you're grinning, big and dopey.)

(it makes him want you in a way that is insane. consuming.)

(oliver spent the last bits of his evening not fucking any number of beautiful women that approached him, but flipping between his texts with you to banter, and that fucking photo, which he has both saved onto his phone, his cloud, and committed to the sensory memories stored in the hindbrain.)

(so. you know? maybe he is a bit--)

"jealous?" he voice wobbles, it hardly sounds like him. "what if i am?"

"... i'd think you're fucking with me."

"and if i'm not?"

you're silent on the line. for a moment, oliver thinks you hung up on him.

"i'm not sure if i believe you." your words wobble. "or, even if you are jealous, why you would care that much? it's just some date with a stranger?"

"it's not about him," oliver says without thinking. "it's about you."

"oh."

oliver runs a hand over his face.

"cancel your date." he starts walking toward the exit. "come over tonight. i'll take you out."

"sure you will."

"i mean it."

"you don't need to be coy," you laugh, a shakey thing, fragile in a way oliver hasn't heard from you. "just say you want to fuck me over your dining table and let it be. don't lie."

something in him cracks. "i'm not lying."

"oliver--"

"i'm not lying."

there's a poigant stretch of silence, and then you gulp.

"fine." your voice wobbles, with elation or dread, he can't tell. "you can take me out. if you're fucking with me, or like, pretending to give more of a shit just because you don't want me to fuck other people, i will walk out the door and never come back, you understand?"

the thought of you doing that, leaving him high and dry and cold, makes that crystallin, frigid anxiety that's been living in his chest travel up to behind his eyes.

"absolutely." oliver says, even, with a conviction that's almost startling. "you're mine, you know? i gotta treat you well."

"sure. prove it."

"i'd be happy to."

it's elation. it's excitement. there's fear, sure, because oliver has never treated a partner 'right' in his life but he is lovesick enough to try.

[ervotica]

rafe loves it when he comes home to you. you're an almost permanent resident of the cameron household, spending more time there than you do in your own home- not that anyone minds. you're an adored member of the family, kind to everyone and always smiling. plus, you mellow out rafe's temper big time.

when rafe is late to get home for whatever reason, you’re always in his bed when he returns. curled up in something or other you’ve stolen from his closet, dead asleep. he tiptoes around you and then climbs in, soft with affection at the way your body gravitates to him unconsciously. you wrap yourself around him but never stir, your face- peaceful and slack with sleep- smushed against his bare shoulder. his arms hook around your waist to pull you closer and you murmur something indiscernible before going right back to snoring quietly.

rafe cameron is soft on you, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

[comatosebunny09]

First time in a long time sex.

That yearning sex. That “I’ve pined for you for years” sex. That “I’ve missed you” sex.

Hot, heavy, sweaty. Ugly. Mouths open, panting. Raw. Unfettered. Breathless chuckles and goofy grins throughout. Intense eye contact. Groans slipping through parted, kiss-swollen lips.

Been at it for hours. No sense of time.

“Take me, take me, take me,” he praises like a mantra, the curl of his voice making your walls hiccup around him as he rubs your clit.

A hand wrapped around your throat. A thumb drawing your lip down, pushing into your mouth. Tongue jutting out to taste it.

Open-mouthed kisses, sighing each other’s names. Your nails embedding waning moons into his traps. His grip bruising, body mooring you to the bed.

He won’t let you get away—not this time. Not like you’d want to. Waited so long to feel him like this.

He pounds into you so good until you’re both soundless, yet you can’t look away. Skin slapping. The headboard smacking against the wall. Bed threatens to give way.

Like he can’t buy another one.

Tears stream down your face, and he furrows his brows. He leans down to pour every emotion he’s held back into your body with a kiss.

Your fingers twine together. Squeezing. He pants against your lips, hips stuttering. The world slides into a blissful shade of white. Toe-curling, mind-numbing, tongue-lolling sex.

I need that.

[cosmic-evening]

you and MIDORIYA IZUKU, in short, were a walking cliché.

he was the golden retriever to your black cat. before you'd started dating, he would often catch your eye from the other side of the classroom, causing the both of you to look away quickly. when he'd first asked you out, he was a blushing, stuttering mess—hell, he even did the yawn-and-stretch move on you on your first date.

you never let him live that down.

but unlike a cliché, you would never get bored of it.

because no matter how many times izuku asked to dance with you in the rain, you could never live without the warm feeling in your stomach when he leans in to kiss you. you could never live without the way your heart pounds when you see a message from him in the morning.

you could never live without him.

mha m.list | gen m.list

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Interruption

A/N: A surprise smut? Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ oral sex.

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

The moment your knees hit the floor before him, Tony knew he was goner. He’d been a sucker for that smart mouth on you and the wonders your tongue could do.

His cock was already straining against his pants as you stroked him over his denims, his bulge growing painful with every passing second. The sly grin on your face indicated you had plans of taking your time tonight, making him beg for release which he’d never admit but secretly loved.

“Undo my pants at least, Y/N, you’re killing me here.” Tony murmured, giving your hair a gentle but firm tug.

“You missed the magic word, Stark..” you smirked, toying with the button his jeans, waiting.

Rolling his eyes, Tony tried coaxing you to unbutton but you being you, simply blinked up at the billionaire.

“Please, Y/N.” he gave in, relieved as you lowered the zipper and pushed the fabric constraints down his legs. His boxers were the next to be ridden, you giggled softly as he practically sighed at his erect cock springing free.

“What now?” Your voice laced with innocence while your mind was devious, wanting to hear him say where and how he needed you. It had become somewhat of a kink for you.

“Take me in that dirty little mouth of yours. All of me.” Tony gripped your hair behind your head, watching as your tongue peeked out to wet your bottom lip at the sight of his length.

Obliging, you opened your mouth and slowly tested the waters, letting just tip of him inside, already tasting the salty eagerness there. Tony let out a soft grunt as your mouth enveloped his cock in a sense of familiarity, making it twitch in a way that only you could manage.

Just as you were about to swallow more of him, your phone rang loud and shrill, disturbing the sensual quiet of the night. Tony being closest to where it was kept on your dresser, glanced at the name and let out a huff of annoyance.

“It’s the annoying prick from your work. Why is he calling you at this hour?”

“Will? I don’t know.” You momentarily left his cock unattended to answer him, still on your knees, not exactly wanting to get up to answer the phone.

“No. It’s Richard. Wait—how many guys are trying their luck with you here? I’m gonna answer this for you.” Tony muttered, rolling his eyes as he picked up your phone.

Shrugging in nonchalance, you resumed your task at hand, this time, tracing the vein that ran on the underside of his cock rather languidly while you heard him speak to your colleague.

“Y/N? Oh! She uh, she’s a bit pre-occupied right now.” He was annoyed as the guy instead of hanging up began asking your whereabouts. Glancing down at you, Tony could see you press your thighs together, as if knowing someone else could be listening in turned you on. 

Nodding once, Tony watched his cock disappear as you let your velvety warmth encompass him completely, his breath hitching as his grip on your phone tightened.

“Do you want to leave a message for her, she’s really working hard on something here.” He shook his head as you grinned, still stuffed with him, now letting your tongue do its thing, the thing that drove your boyfriend absolutely crazy.

Tony cursed under his breath, not caring if your colleague heard him or the little sinful moan you’d uttered while you worked him up to his climax. You knew just what he liked so your hand that earlier gripped his thigh had joined the party, tending to his balls while his length twitched in your mouth, signalling he was close.

“Ah fuck! Just like that, Y/N.”

Tony looked rather smug as the person on the other line caught on what was happening, awkwardly excusing himself before the line went silent. You couldn’t care less, bringing Tony pleasure was your sole focus as you did just that, feeling his legs shuffle a little as his muscles tensed.

“I’m gonna—”

He didn’t get to finish as you continued your ministrations, only slowing down when you felt spurts of hot cum shoot down your throat, and Tony’s loud moans fill the room as he emptied his seed.

Pleased, you stood up with a cat-ate-the-canary smile, pulling him in for a kiss which you both sighed into, evidence of your doing lingering on your tongue.

“What a hot menace you are.” Tony murmured against your lips, making you chuckle.

“But I’m your hot menace, aren’t I?”

“That’s right. And these bozos need to know that. I’m gonna make sure they do.” Tony muttered with a pout, already making plans for announcing to the goddamn world that you were taken.

[prncessdiaries]

husband 🎀

prncessnote: i made another one…personal favorite ✊🏽

“hey babes, so today me and my friend are gonna go out of town for the week, and we got-…” your boyfriend looked around for this said, “friend” as you continued talking, nudging you to get your attention, “candied bacon…looks weird but-.”

“who’s the- where’s the friend?” he cut you off, making a pout form on your mouth, “huh?”

“nah don’t, ‘huh?’ me, who’s your friend?” you could see his temper rise the minute you giggled, trying your hardest not to laugh, “what? yeah nah, nah let’s restart the fucking video, talking about “my friend,” fuck outta here.” he reached for the phone and pressed the big red button and watched you set up for the intro again, fixing yourself up,

“anyways, hi guys, so me and my friend are going out tonight-” you heard your boyfriend sigh and let out an “you motherfucker” while blowing his arms up in irritation, “hey what’s wrong? you don’t wanna go out no more?” you feigned to seem more concerned, trying not to blow your cover, “nah don’t i wanna go out no more, the fuck? stop saying that shit”, he mocked you per usual and looked at you more sternly, irritation written all over his face, “what’s the issueeeeee-?”

“the issue, is that you keep on saying “friend”, like who the fuck is your friend baby?” a grin appears on your face when you say, “well, you’re my friend, aren’t you?” it took him some deep breaths to calm himself down, “but i’m not your friend-” he stopped himself, knowing sometimes you could get a lil ditzy in certain situations and instead he mumbled out, “just restart the video baby,”

so, you went ahead to click the button again to restart for the third time, yet this time you watched him hold your hand in a “couple-y” way, showing off the beautiful promis ring he gifted you, hoping you wouldn’t try that “friend” bullshit again…

…but in your true fashion, you continued with the act and was met with the response, “aht! again.” you sighed and rolled your eyes yet this time you didn’t stop the recording, “bro, why do you keep stoppingggg?!”

“causeeee, i’m not one of your fuck ass friends! like damn, stop saying that shit forreal,” watching him blow up in your face almost made you cackle aloud, seeing you finally got his ass all riled up, but your boyfriend continued on with his ranting rampage, “…and not your bro either. i’m your boyfriend practically your husband, so get it right or we gon keep doing it over and over again until it’s right,” you watched him inch closer to your face and you nodded slowly, “so baby, can you please do it again? and do it right?”

“y-yeah, mhm,” you watched his lips form into a smirk, watching you restart the video hopefully for the last time, and this time, your boyfriend began kissing all over your hands, and when you looked at him in confusion he ushered his hand in a, “as you were” type of motion, “hi my loves, today me and my boyfriend are gonna go out and try gonna try candied bacon with my boyfriend-”

“nope, do it,” he chuckled, hearing your groans and shielding away from your small slaps, “what now?”

“you didn’t say, husband-” you rolled your eyes hard, “oh my goodness…”

[cruel-hiraeth]

i keep returning to the thought of being jing yuan’s deeply human—and thus flawed—beloved. while fickle in nature, you are wholeheartedly devoted to the luofu’s general, and have no qualms about your attachment in spite of the disparity in your lifespans.

the primary cause for strife within the relationship (in your mind, anyway) is you—specifically, your jealousy of those who warmed jing yuan’s bed during the long centuries before you even existed. any time you think about this, you jaw sets, and your eyes grow stormy.

but your anguish doesn’t upset the man in question; in all honesty, he indulges your hot-headed, possessive behavior. you’re spoiled beyond reproach—this much you can’t deny—and yet you are incapable of quelling the urge to turn up your nose and become moody when certain topics arise.

down to the second, jing yuan can predict when you will demand to sit on his lap and claw at his chest like a petulant kitten. perhaps—if you weren’t single-mindedly driven by blazing ardor and pride—you would cringe at how easily you fall into his trap. but it’s camouflaged with honeyed words and silken pleasure, and you can’t help but yield to his antics, weeping mine mine mine into his mouth, carving crimson ribbons down his back.

despite his military training, jing yuan isn’t cruel; he could never be callous to you, his heart. but he loves the mortal flame that burns so passionately inside you. thanks to you—and for the first time in centuries—he remembers what it feels like to be alive.

[never-rxne]

──── sputnik

“Ever since that day, Sumire’s private name for Miu was Sputnik Sweetheart. Sumire loved the sound of it. It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundlessly across the blackness of space. In the infinite loneliness of space, what could the dog possibly be looking at?” —Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart. 

notes: she just deserves to rest what can i say. :( have this little- i don't even know what this is. domestic vignettes?

concept: listen to the rain whispering outside. it is a steady white noise that lulls Sevika to sleep when nothing else could. time slows to a stop. late morning; you let the minutes tick by without consequence. there is nowhere to be. you and Sevika lie in bed with Sevika’s head resting on your chest. you keep your arms around her, running your fingers lazily through her hair, threading through the streaks of grey among the dark, straight strands. she is safe here in your arms. no one is out for her. nothing is haunting her. her heart beats in rhythm to your own, so that if you close your eyes you can imagine you are breathing as one body. Sevika stirs, mumbles something in her sleep. her soft snoring covered by the gentle song of rain.

concept: listen to the music playing from the record player. Sevika picks from the vinyls as carefully as if they determine the course of her life. her favorite jazz musicians, bossa nova artists, lined up neatly in the crate. she likes to play the music while she fixes up her prosthetic, and you sit quietly near her holding the tools. you know she doesn't need any help, but you like to rest your head on her shoulder and watch her at work. she hums along to the songs sometimes.

slow evenings with the music, dancing in the small kitchen with the lights off and candles lit. Sevika says it's corny but she'll give you a spin and then dip you, lip-syncing to ella fitzgerald. stay in this moment. fall deeper in love with her. her hair is still damp from the bath earlier and she smells like soap. a hint of the scent of spices cling to her hands from making dinner earlier. she is happier than she has been in a long time.

concept: listen to the silence after a fight. the dripping water in the sink. you both have said things you didn't mean. you have both hurt each other. Sevika doesn't apologize, but you can feel her remorse permeate the air. you can feel it in the way she closes the doors, the way she stops briefly outside the room you're in.

later at night you lie in bed as you usually do but the silence still hangs heavy over you. the moon is high and bright outside the window, and looking over you can see the profile of Sevika's face watching its nocturnal ascent.  

into the darkness she says, you know when they sent the second satellite out they put a dog named laika in the spacecraft. it was never recovered and the dog ended up dying. imagine it, drifting and drifting alone in space. 

you know she means, please don’t let me go. please don’t release me when i lose control, don’t let me be lost to space. the gravitational forces that allow us to meet for just a moment in this vast circle of eternity, then part again—they aren’t for us. 

so you close the space between you, wrap your arms around her neck and hook a leg over her waist, clinging close to her and burying your face in her hair. she doesn’t look away from the window, she keeps watching the clouds pass over the moon. but she pulls you close to her with her one arm. you press your lips to her cheek. we’re not like the satellites, you whisper. and i will not leave you. 

i will not leave you.