msmoonstone

[msmoonstone]

nevermind she's on the multi instead lol

[msmoonstone]

"Well. Not all magic. Just the presiding authority over wizards and our treaties with the various other magical beings-- Warlocks, sorcerers, you know, those sort."

"President? Does that make you in charge of like all magic? That's so fuckin' cool, my dude!"

[msmoonstone]

Greg Tocchini - The Magic Order 

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It starts so steady and even in the first couple breaths. The way her lips drag their delicate touch along the full girth of his shaft. Eagerly pressing and taking him without even the faintest hesitation. Those brilliant blues locked up on his scrutinizing gaze. In some ways, she's eager to please him. Letting him let loose the loud song she wanted him to sing.

But on the other? She was still challenging him, daring him with those eyes every time she purposefully hangs just shy of half of his girth. Intent to leave him wanting. To goad him into that roughness she so thoroughly craved.

When she feels his powerful fingers furl into the loose black locks of her hair, adorning her scalp like the crown she had so desired. Cordelia knew that she was going to be given everything she wanted. The first thrust has a cough and gag around his cock, but the next has her clasping her lips back down tightly against him again.

Tongue lavishing as much as she can with the wild bucks of want into her face. Her hands lower to brace herself on the floor. Letting her focus on maintaining consciousness in spite of his rigorous need for release. Though one can't help but unbutton her jeans, to tease her aching wetness between her thighs the more she's used as just some fucking toy for him.

A deep, rumbly hum reverberates in his chest as her lips finally make contact, watching her just admire and appreciate him inch by inch. She was talking a big game, he was most curious whether or not she could back it up. Hell, he had his doubts whether or not she could even take half of him to begin with, but he supposed he would be finding that out sooner rather than later.

"Oh, but I thought you were going to show me just what a dastardly villain you were." Fingers massage her scalp, moving along with the bobbing of her head, not taking charge quite just yet. "But if you want your punishment before the crime, who am I to say no?"

He stops, for the briefest of moments, to consider, head tilting to the side as he looked down at her, gaze darkened and increasingly filling with lust. He could try to keep his gentlemanly act going, try to offer gentle rebuttals to her words, to keep her waiting for a while longer. Could, should.

But where was the fun in that, if she wanted to badly to play?

"If you want to be treated like just a hole--" His palm pushes away from the pillar, to join his hand in her hair, his grip tightening further, "--To be used." He rocks his hips forward, pushing himself as far as her throat would comfortably allow, and then just a hair further, before rolling them back.

"And see if your mouth--" Without warning, he bucks once more, "--Is really worth a damn."

[msmoonstone]

i think the best part of big game was watching someone shut wesley gibson's mouth after 20 years

[msmoonstone]

Jenna Coleman as Marie-Andrée Leclerc in The Serpent 101

Marie-Andrée Leclerc (1945-1984) was a fraudster and known accomplice to serial killer Charles Sobhraj, who preyed on Western tourists travelling on the hippie trail of South Asia during the 1970s.

(c)

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She hears him talk, listens to him pontificate and stroke his own fucking ego. But boy howdy is she not actually listening, he had another thing coming if this meant she was giving in so quickly. Well, at least giving in to his control, she really didn't feel like she could hold back going in for at least a taste.

"Oh, you haven't earned that title yet. Maybe when there's a red ring around my throat, and me and my cunt are drooling you'll be there. But we've only just started."

Those pretty red lips press delicate kisses against the long girthy shaft, lavishing it in the sweetest way. God, traveling as much as she does she usually bags young dudes eager to prove themselves. 20-somethings fresh and free. Sometimes big, like this, sometimes average, but it was about more than physicality wasn't it? Big dick was as much how the wielder carried themself.

And his was by far the biggest fucking dick she'd dealt with in that energy. He could break her, shatter her into a million pieces, without even trying. But behind the scenes, the reverse was still true. Lips close around the head, letting her eager tongue swirl around the glans and toy with him as much as she was indulging. Eyes burning with an eager sort of lust, half lidded and vacant as she plays her little game.

"How about you stop commanding, and start taking? You want a better use for this mouth? Why aren't you grabbing hold and using it?"

It's a neat trick that she pulls, one that he really should have seen coming considering just how long he spent alongside other magic users. But, regardless, it manages to, ever momentarily, take him by surprise.

He will chalk it up to being sufficiently distracted.

A hand comes up to fill the space she left, pressing up against the stone pillar for support, while his other hand, for the brief moment, rested limply at his side. " You gonna keep talking or are you finally going to put that mouth to use?"

He takes a second to appreciate the sight of her, down on her knees, those big blue eyes full of hunger and awe; attitude and focused intent squeezed into such a small frame. He really could snap her in half like a kit-kat, if he so wished.

His dangling hand moves to rest on top of her head, fingers tangling themselves within her hair, his grip firm but not painful. " Still all talk." He gives her a gentle nudge, inching himself closer to her face. " Come on, pussy, stop waiting for me to act." Ghost of a smirk plays upon his lips, brow raised daringly.

" Give daddy a show."

[msmoonstone]

JENNA COLEMAN as Liv Taylor in Wilderness (S01E04 - Home Sweet Home)

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There's a breathless little mewl as his hand comes down so harshly on that pert rear of hers. Still, even in the following seconds, she can feel the jolt of electricity against her body. Rear still reverberating with the shockwave of his hand. Teeth pull her lip between their vice, trying to contain the desperate sounds he was getting out of her.

"Yeah, just like they let anyone be a hero." With a burning heat, her warm breath pants out against his neck. Face flushed with all that heated want that roasted in her hips as they still so steadily grind against him. Feeling every bit of him harden every passing second.

"I expected a firm hand, to go along with that mace. The second I start working my talents, I feel like you're gonna go all weak in the knees, big man." Truth be told, as it was now though? She was done playing these goddamned games, she was done with this through the pants bullshit. "I'm an escapologist, you know?" Whispered so breathlessly against his throat, "If you wanna keep me down, you're gonna have to do a lot better."

Was it the way she bent her shoulders? The magic at her disposal? Or any other manner of trickery? It didn't matter, particularly. What mattered was how she had slipped from his hold. Dropped to her knees in front of him, impatiently pulling down his tights.

"I'll show you bad girl." The light touch of her hand holds the full weight of him in her grasp from beneath. Tips of her nails rolling along him.

"I can be real bad, hero."

She's a needy little creature, admirable in how openly she wore the fact on her sleeve. His hand snakes around to grip her ass for support, another coming down to join it with a not-at-all gentle smack, fingers firm where they are.

Then he smiles, an all-too-sweet smile against her lips, voice dropping low, " I'm a grower, not a shower, baby." It's only half a lie, he is already at half-mast by her sounds and displays alone, but she would discover that fact for herself soon enough.

A step forward, and he presses her back against the wall, rougher than before, his hips flush against hers, giving a buck in turn. He has half a mind, by that fire that was being stoked every second, to continue moving until they both make messes of their attire, right there and then. An all too alluring prospect. Surely he had more willpower than that.

" If you're calling this a fight, you're going to be the lousiest villain I've ever gone up against." His head dips, lips pressing, teeth tugging at the soft flesh of her neck, " They just call anyone a bad girl these days."

[msmoonstone]

The Magic Order 2 #2

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God he's doing all he can to unravel her. Lost in that sudden moment of roughness. The heels of her boots no longer rest upon the ancient stoneworks of her home. Cordelia can feel the thick denim of her pants helping create some friction between her thighs. Keep her waiting any longer she's gonna look like the second grader who couldn't hold it on the field trip--

"Sure, maybe, but you'd be a terrible hero to assume your villain isn't going to fight back."

The way her hips roll, lifting to grind idly into his body. A preview of things to come. Thin legs lift to wrap around his waist. To hold firm onto his body and hold herself in the air in spite of his hulking touch. Those deep blues are soaked in hunger, she was never one for pretending she was what she wasn't. A carnal creature of addictions, chasing the next fucking source of her dopamine.

Right now? It was in those pants. She could feel it firm and turgid, pressed taught against his tights. Lithe digits of the wizard trail across his sharp angular features. Admiring his face as much as her hips were his body.

The heated movements already have the messy bun of her hair starting to fray and fall around her own wanting features. Hovering over his lips. "Talk a lot of shit about being turned on with a baseball bat in your fucking pants."

" They usually are." A saying comes to his mind, something Supes had said that one time when facing one of the countless 'end of the world' scenarios. Something about living in a world of cardboard and needing to be completely delicate. He is not that strong, of course, but he could relate to a degree.

Though he doubts the Man of Tomorrow would appreciate having his words considered in such a context as this.

Still, theirs was to be a simple exchange, at the end of the day. A night of solace, of mindless debauchery and aches-to-be to remind one of the finer things in life. But he still liked to perform acts of gentility, just a little, just enough to pretend he wasn't just a base animal chasing primal pleasures. For the moment, at least.

But, still, he could meet her halfway.

" You talk a lot of shit for someone who's making a mess just by kissing." Fingers on her neck trail down, straight in the middle, down the sternum and the navel, to dip below the belt." What's this, huh?" His palm presses flush against the denim, fingers grasping at the fabric, bucking it up with enough force to lift her to her toes, just enough to display how little she weighed in comparison to his strength.

" Maybe I'll just have you squirm the whole night. Isn't that what villains deserve?"

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Criss Angel?

Eat your f&^%ing heart out.

[msmoonstone]

"Yeah, you're lookin' at the President of the Magic Order. Not something most people would announce so confidently, but you seem like a nice enough dude."

"You have to? Oooo you must be like important, huh? Only the real important people have rules, I've learned. Most of the people I run into are like me; kinda just doin' our best on our own."

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She's not in this for love, and she knows he's not either. But the way the rough tips of his mighty fingers glide along the veins of her throat. Wondering so idly what it must feel like to have him grip her throat, squeezing the consciousness into question. Already he has her gasping, shimmering blues rolling just a faint in their hungered haze as they look challengingly on his.

A breathless moan comes through, when he takes her hands by the wrists, doing that beautifully powerful thing and taking her arms out of the equation. Cordelia's back arches off the stone pillar, thighs rubbing together absently in quiet heated anticipation. Oh, she meets every kiss, every heated lock is met with a passion just as burning as his own, she's already finding herself more drunk on his presence than any bottle of cheap fucking hooch she's found.

It's quiet for a second, beyond the profane sounds of their lips wetly consuming each other, and the anticipating writhing of rutting denim. He pulls back, pulls at her lip, and that drunken look is traded for one of returning challenge. Cherry red lips guiding to the edges of her face in a wry grin, showing her clenched pearly whites.

"Big man thinks he's got things figured out already?" Her whole body trembles with need, mouth hanging open like some cheap mewling whore.

"Come on pussy. Stop waiting for me to act." She barbs, brows furrowing in that spiteful way, daring him to do something more than just hold her. Daring him to do exactly what she fucking told him, and stop, as she'd call it, pussyfooting around. "You treat all the little girls you fuck like they're made of glass, pretty boy?"

It would be a mistake for him to underestimate her, he thinks, to shrug off her words and assume she was just talking big for the sake of it. They'd just met, sure, but he got the distinct feeling she was one of those types who liked to severely underplay her capabilities, until it was all too late for her prey.

So, he hums in agreement, giving no protest as she leads his hand to where she wished it to be; fingers oh-so-tantalizingly pressing against her pulse points. A thoughtful tilt of the head, eyes giving her a once-over as his course fingers caress against her soft skin.

Give her a fight. Yeah, he figures he could manage that.

He hears his belt clatter across the floor away from them, but he pays little mind, fingers trailing up that neck of hers to trace along her jaw, " You're good with your hands. What else you're good with?" He comes in quick, like a thief stealing a priceless artifact in the night (an apt metaphor, he thinks), a peck, before he leans back in for a sloppy second, slower, more purposeful, shifting his weight to press her more against the wall while doing so.

" Gonna show me what you got?" Hushed words spoken between kisses, teeth tugging at her bottom lip, his hand sliding along to find and pin her wrist against the pillar. " You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

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femme fatale

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Her taste in men was quite easy to pin down. Esoteric as she might have been herself, an oddity plagued in the madness that was the life of magic, while she herself had left much to mundanity. A young woman with father issues caused plenty of problems with authority, and plenty more pretty comfortably stereotypes she fit into. At least, in a way, she'd find comfortable.

Tall, brooding, angry, handsome. Trouble. Sometimes married. It was a bit problematic when it came to getting herself into trouble. Soft blues betray her true nature, and she rolls herself back a bit. Playing innocent in some fashion. Made it a little more fun, didn't it? Something about it made them so much more rabid if they weren't given the inches they had wanted to take the full miles.

"I'm good at showing my own limits, and throwing off men who push them a little too far." Not that she was particularly confident that he'd even reach the edge of those limits. She holds certain words on her tongue, ones that didn't usually get used for the young men she fed her appetites with. Really fit this guy more than she'd care to admit--

"So, how about you use me. Do what you think I like. I'll grade your performance, and decide how fun things were." Does he notice her slender fingers playing their sleight of hand game? Stealing away his belt and letting it skitter across the floor away from the both of them. Fun as a leather strap was, those hands had her a little more eager.

"Pretend I'm some villain, yoga pants. Give me a fight." A smaller hand guides his by the wrist up to her neck. A wry grin pulled taught across her features.

This was a game he found himself playing, one that she had started; Taking of one's measure, balancing on the proverbial see-saw, the give and the take. A game that he was, quickly, catching himself up to speed on.

He knew her type; one who liked to speak tough so she'd get punished harder in response. Try to find all his buttons, just so she could press them for maximum effect. She appeared to have a head start, too, seemingly having an extensive knowledge of his history. Cute.

" Baby, you haven't seen just how well my tongue can flap." A bad quip? He doesn't care. Bringing his unoccupied hand up to dance his knuckles along her chin; his thumb, coarse, brushes against her soft skin.

The more they occupy each other's personal space, the more he finds himself in lock step with her. Her fever was infectious, the thickness in the air palpable. " A good thrashing." He repeats, brow cocked, grasping her chin between two fingers. She was so tiny compared to him, could give her what she wanted, and then some. All without breaking a sweat.

" Tell me what you want and how rough you want it." His tone drops, eyes piercing, questioning, " And-- maybe a safe word, for good measure. I'd hate to break anything by accident."

[msmoonstone]

Jenna Coleman as Queen Victoria — Victoria | Ladies in Waiting