loveshard

[loveshard]

closed starter for @ofbookshelves

blake always preferred an audience, but tonight it was just rae, sprawled beneath him, with the dim bedside lamp casting honey over every angle of her. he drew her wrists above her head and pinned them, one-handed, pressing her into the mattress to get a good look. he drank her in—moonlit and spectral. the urge to leave impressions, to claim territory, was a disease he’d made peace with long ago. he took his time, eyes lowered and mouth curved, before he bent, exploring the new terrain of rae. whatever she’d bare open for him was his for the taking. he dragged his palm down, sweeping from the valley of her throat to the middle of her chest, pausing where her heart fought its cage. "still good?" he asked into the crook of her neck, the question a tease, not much of a courtesy.

[loveshard]

stephen nearly snorted. for someone with the face of pure innocence, his girlfriend sure knew how to push their relationship to new limits, nudging it forward with a playful but determined force. the contradiction only made him want her more. "babe, i’m ravaging you with my eyes right now," he said, and it was true. his vision was doing laps around every curve, every seam, every place the suit pinched in her skin. he couldn't possibly get tired of the sight. "i’m like—mentally undressing you? you just can’t see the laser beams but i promise, catwoman’s already halfway through the devious deathtrap." he let his hands drift, palms finding the soft curve of her ass through the costume, squeezing a little, tugging her closer. "don’t make me get my utility belt," stephen threatened, the red rope next to them still top of mind. "i just don’t want to destroy the costume yet. it’s too—" he gestured, helpless, at the delicious overlap of skylar's hips over him, his dress pants still on from dinner, now becoming far too constricting on his body. "—iconic. better than any birthday surprise. i mean, the craftsmanship alone deserves to be archived," he mused, his fingers splayed wide and tracing higher, careful not to press yet against her breasts, though the suit made it hard to avoid. his eyes kept finding his way back in that exact spot. the zipper was already half-down, all but hinting at what was underneath; he couldn’t help himself, letting fingers gently tap the metal pull. "preferably with a full photoset?" stephen finished, hopeful.

"no duh, you're batman here, remember?" she teased, enjoying the show of confidence from him that she loved so much. skylar hovered over her boyfriend in anticipation, felt desired as she watched him watch her. felt his gaze settle hot and heavy on her body, knew how much he loved it. stephen had made her feel so much more confident about herself too since they started dating. it was part of the reason why she even had the gall to put this bodysuit on, to have the zipper pulled down low so her cleavage could spill out for his enjoyment. "then that means you have to solve this catwoman-shaped puzzle, right?" she pointed out like it was obvious, her attempt at being alluring stuttering when he simply pushed her blue hair back, making her giggle from the warmth she felt when he said he just wanted to admire her. "you know, you're making it really hard to keep up this sexy catwoman thing when you're being all romantic," skylar laughed softly, cheeks going even ruddier as he touched her full of want and ease, like she belonged to him ( because, really, she did ), "i don't know how viable the bodysuit is when i get all sweaty." her voice was light, but there was obvious edge of desire to it, responding to the way his hands roamed over her curves, felt chills strike up her spine as he teased over her thigh, immediately felt her core pulse with need. "you're supposed to want to ravage me right now, stephie," sky teased, biting down on her bottom lip to try and stop herself from whining, tried to sound a little bossy but it ended up coming out soft, "right?"

[loveshard]

closed starter for @inkshadow

ayla knew her own mouth—what it could do, how it melted tough girls into puddles—so this beautiful stranger didn’t stand a chance. not as she pressed them, soft against the wall, letting her hands find their way around their waist, seeking warmth. she angled her thigh for leverage, pinning their bodies together, fusing them, hip to hip. not giving in to the micro-wobble in her own knees. "you’re trouble," she accused, but stated as a fact, grinding her thigh in a little more. "i’m not tryin’ to make a scene out here," ayla continued, grin sweet, promising. "you know how thin these walls are?"

[loveshard]

closed starter for @deathrcll

there was a strange relief in letting his body lead: victor didn’t have to think anything, didn’t have to analyze or reroute or build a spreadsheet for his feelings. he just let need carry him. he let want fill in all the rest. his hand slid over the hem of their shirt, the heat from their stomach blooming under his palm. he drew them closer by the hips, and pressed his mouth to theirs so quick that it was graceless. the kiss landed off center, smudged, but somehow tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever planned. he half-smiled, and kissed them again, building back his rhythm. finding this one less clumsy, but more insistent. still reckless. "missed you," victor managed, words slurred together by the shape of their lips and tongue, "missed this."

[loveshard]

closed starter for @deathrcll

he tried, really tried, to make it past page twelve, but devotion was difficult when his fingers remembered themselves and wandered, aimlessly, landing over the gentle terrain of someone else’s hip. bad habits were like that. he blinked himself back to baudelaire. there were words on the page, certainly. he read them aloud, very softly, and not quite for comprehension. "je suis belle, ô mortels! comme un rêve de pierre," nico half-whispered, rolling the french around his tongue until he’d covered the rise of their lover’s thigh and by then, well. it was just easier to mouth the lines against skin, as if the secret to french pronunciation was somewhere inside the hollow of their knee. nico’s lips explored for truth or at least for a reaction. the book slipped, unnoticed, nearly forgotten. "how am i meant to finish this if you insist on existing?"

[loveshard]

apparently, my muse is high for smutty things.. anyone want something short + smutty?

[loveshard]

God I love “We’re enemies, but we’ve been enemies for a long time, which is sort of like being friends.” Great trope.

[loveshard]

HARRIS DICKINSON as samuel in babygirl (2024)

[loveshard]

I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot vampire shit *drinks blood from wine glass while reading antique books in my gothic castle*

[loveshard]

He was only too happy to comply, chest against hers as his hands glided up and over her thighs with a certainty. "Marshmallow, huh?" Gabriel grinned into her throat, teasing with the scrape of his bottom teeth. He wanted, more than anything, to keep her laughing, keep her humming, keep her under him. To spend the rest of his life, or at least the rest of the night, solving the puzzle of how much pleasure she could stand before shoving him away, more or less in protest, then snatching him back for a second—and third—round. "You saying I’m too soft?" He questioned, coaxing her legs until they hooked around his hips, and letting his palm graze up her inner thigh, higher and higher.

If their love was poetry, Gabriel was the poet, and she but the paper on which he wrote. Bending, changing, correcting to his will. Each touch and kiss a line in their story. A poem she prayed would never end. She hummed softly, stretching her neck to give him more access. "Only if you ever get tired of tasting it." Eva spread her legs wider, determined to give him whatever he wanted. "And then I'd taste of whatever you craved next. Maybe marshmallow or lavender." She mused. Hands settled on his waist, gripping lightly as she pulled him closer. "You are way too far in my opinion, my love."

[loveshard]

Emil M. Cioran, translated by Richard Howard, from "The Temptation To Exist,"

[loveshard]

“what that mouth do” speak falsehoods mostly, but lately i’ve also been really getting into blaspheming before god,

[loveshard]

flew a little too close to the sun but shall be back in a few hours to tackle more starters!

[loveshard]

closed starter for @crookedkingdcms

the only thing more aggravating than a monday morning conference call was a monday morning conference call where one of his employees had the gall to say ‘synergy’ with a straight face. blaise muted his microphone so he could exhale through his nose in peace, watching the virtual meeting fill with tiny squares of bland faces and belligerently beige home offices. he lifted his cup, sipping his tea and let his director’s ongoing monologue about 'global alignment' drift to a distant, irrelevant hum. his camera was off, already put in an appearance; he didn’t need to perform any longer. he could have used this time to review the amex statements running wild through his inbox. instead, he found himself arching a brow, his mouth almost curved into a smile at the thud and click of the home office door behind him. setting the mug down, savoring the last of the bitter heat stinging his tongue, the chair slid back half an inch from the desk’s edge. "if you’re going to interrupt my workday, darling, at least kneel for it."

[loveshard]

closed starter for @hartofxmatter

Gabriel, drunk on the summer buzz and Eva’s laughter, set her on the edge of the kitchen counter, balancing her there like a glass of water he intended to drink whole, hands on either side of her hips. Steadying, but not holding, never caging. His eyes were still starry from the excellent bourbon and the hour’s dancing, which continued, giggling and barefoot, the moment he’d unlocked the apartment door. He pressed her farther up the counter, bent to kiss her, finding her neck instead, mouthing along the areas he could reach. "Do you ever get tired of tasting like bourbon and clementines?" he asked, slipping his hands under the hem of her dress as if it were the only reasonable thing to do.

[loveshard]

closed starter for @kinkiskarmas

Xavier liked to think he could convince lust to manifest wherever and whenever he wanted, even in the pews of St. Francis. His thigh pressed against his date’s, his palm resting on the expanse of their knee, fingers creeping higher each time the priest’s voice hit a lull. A miracle, he thought, how quickly the mind unholstered filth in front of the saints. He leaned in, lips nearing the other's ear. "Confession’s open," he whispered. Nosy old women in tweed suits shot him a side-eye. He relished it, flicked a glance back with a shameless smile, then nudged his date’s knee until their bodies were tethered against each other, a single unit. He gave a slight squeeze to their leg before continuing: "You ever been?"

[loveshard]

closed starter for @devilscheck

Xavier had never considered himself handcuff material until faced with the reality of pink faux-fur and his own reckless need to impress. Now, here it was, taunting on the nightstand, forcing him to re-evaluate several core beliefs. For one, restraint only made him more turned on. For another, the right kind of humiliation turned out to be its own brand of aphrodisiac. He was already imagining how she’d gloat, on top and untouchable—right until he breaks the rules. "Are we doing this ironically, or just to satisfy your juvenile curiosity?"