#18+ age range

[solbaby7]

Lose Control

pairing: rhysand x shy!reader

warnings: nothing really, some swearing and the normal amount of thirst that comes with thinking about a particular High Lord naked and wet.

summary: Poor Illyrian baby Rhys who just really needs your hands rubbing his back—in the bathtub.

——

A deep groan pulls you from your crochet, the yarn ball rolling on the floor beneath you as you make easy work of the flower pattern Azriel had taught you a few days prior. “That bad?”

Rhysand nods, shoes scuffing against the floor before collapsing in the couch across from you. “Everything hurts.”

It’s no less embarrassing the second time around how quickly you set your items down, hands smoothing out the less than appropriate fabric of your nightgown when you stand. “I can get a bath going?” You offer softly, fingers crossing delicately before you and Rhysand can’t help the sleepy little smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth at the sight of you, all silky material and socks with fluffy puffs that had little bunnies dangling from them.

“That sounds nice bunny,” He murmurs, finger reaching out to flick at the little puff. “Can you sprinkle some of those little salts of yours in there too?”

“Of course.” You’re gone shortly after, crochet flowers long forgotten on the couch as you rush off to your room to fetch some bath salts, oils and a vial of bubbles. Rhys is still on the couch when you return, shirt off and pants unbuttoned as he laid on his back with one arm draped over his eyes. It takes more effort than you’re willing to admit to tear your gaze away from the hard muscles of his chest, his defined arms and abdomen so chiseled you wondered if the High Lord would ever ask you to massage that part of him too. You shake the thought off as you head to the bathing chambers, gathering large towels and pouring salts that smelled of lemongrass and oranges into the quickly filling tub.

It’s halfway full and beginning to steam when you add the bubbles, a content smile forming when you light scented candles and drag a stool over to hold a two knuckle pour of some expensive whiskey Rhysand kept near his work table. “It’s ready,” You call out, fingers dipping in the bubbly water to test the temperature and when you’re sure it’s perfect, you turn off the faucet, hands drying on the thigh of your nightgown.

He takes a while to enter, shoulders slouching and feet pattering against the marbled floors when he finally does, dark hair hangs on his forehead when he takes in the scene before him. “Bubbles too,” Rhysand murmured in appreciation, blocking you before you leave, a finger raising to bop your nose with a little smile. “Cute.”

The blush that fans across your cheeks is nearly as warm as the water in the giant tub built to fit the large wings Rhys usually kept hidden. You’re out of the room before he can make any comments about your body’s reaction to his words—his fingers touching you, no matter how fleeting it may have been.

You’re settled back into the couch when you hear the High Lord sink into the water, a breathy groan pulling free and your thighs clench together as you busy your hands with the yarn and hook. You don’t get very far, just falling into a rhythm when Rhysand calls out, “Can you come here?”

“What do you need?”

“Come here.” You swear you hear him chuckle when you huff out a breath, tossing your flower aside once more and your steps are a little snappier than usual when you stand near the door. “Inside.”

A pause, fingers twitching at your sides and you hope he can’t hear your heart thudding. It comes out no higher than a whisper, palms clammy at the thought of him—naked and covered by nothing but bubbles and water. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

“Oh?” It comes out a little teasing, door creaking open by dark tendrils of power that urge you closer. “You’d dare deny your High Lord?”

“Well, no but—“ You eyes are trained on the polish of your toes when you’re fully pushed inside, the gorgeous male splayed about in the tub, feet outstretched and arms loosely holding each side but the first thing you really notice are the giant membranous wings peeking out over the edge. “Friends like you and I don’t really make a habit of spending time together in your bathing chambers.”

Rhysand clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, toes playfully splashing at the water. “Like you and I?”

Your nerves build—Rhys always did love riling you up, constantly murmuring some comment about enjoying the way you blush for him, the way you have to completely turn away to compose yourself when he offers flirtatious words in passing. “You’re my High Lord.”

“And you’re one of my closest friends.”

Just friends.

The words repeat themselves in your brain like one of the catchy songs they played in Velaris but every time they reach your ears it feels wrong. “Yes.”

“Exactly and friends help each other, right? You’re just helping.”

Your brows furrow, momentarily recalling when similar words had crossed your mind a week prior when Rhysand had stripped from the waist up and all but demanded you rub his back. “Wait a second—“

The water ripples as Rhysand moves, back muscles contracting as he twists to face you, a brow raised and a lazy smile on handsome features. “Come here bunny,” He beckoned you closer with that same two finger flick, head tilting just a little and even with this being the master bedchambers, the walls felt like they were closing in with each step forward. “Need your hands. Can you do that for me?”

And like a fly buzzing into a spiderweb, you’re caught in his trap.

Rhysand’s fingers curled around the glass left on the stool, tipping the bottom, a motion intended for you to grab the little stool and sit behind him. So, you comply, movements slow and weary as your hands touch the smooth wood and slide it over. The backs of your thighs sink into the smooth surface, shaky hands grabbing at the bar of soap sitting to his right. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let them,” He sighs, knocking back the whiskey with a little groan. “I’m sure Cass and Az are fighting over who gets you next as we speak—they’ve been talking about it all week.”

“Why not just hire someone?” You ask, fingers slick with the soap as you start at his shoulders with slow, kneading motions. “It can’t be healthy to always be so stiff—doesn’t it affect your fighting?”

Rhysand only nods, eyes fluttering shut and face contorting gently when you follow the line of where neck meets shoulder. “You do it much better. Must be because of your tiny little hands.” A noise pulls from his throat when slippery fingers knead away knots and bands of muscle wound so tight, you were unsure how he’d even managed to put his shirt on.

You repeat the motions over and over, fingers tracing over dips and ridges of his back before shifting over to his arms, your hair falling free from its confines to graze over the top of his wing and the sound he lets out is pure sin.

Your hands retract instinctively, soapy fingers slipping against your thighs when you scramble to your feet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Rhysand’s breathing has quickened, chest heaving more than he had been before and the grip he has on the sides of the tub is sure to split the stone in two. “It’s fine—you didn’t hurt me. They’re just sore and it makes them a lot more sensitive than usual.”

Your heart is still pounding a beat faster than usual, hands hanging at your sides, unsure if you were supposed to continue or make your leave.

“Keep going,” Rhys urges, waving the arm you’d been oiling up in the air. “Just go slow.” You obey, hands carefully returning to hard muscle being extra careful when you got close to his wings—even if the noises he’d made from touching them had been branded in your brain for all eternity. “That’s it,” He praises, eyes half-lidded as he sunk deeper into the water.

It’s easy getting lost in the motions when you’re admiring every dip and curve, every scar and the stretch marks that came when growing from a boy to man. You stop once a little snore pulls free, lips parted and features relaxed as your High Lord slept.

The sound of your feet on the glossy floors pulls Az and Cass from their place in the sitting room, brows raised to your sheepish expression. “He feel asleep in the tub and I’m scared he might drown.”

Cassian raised a brow, smirk forming when taking in the soapy hands and the smell of the massage oils before frowning. “You don’t rub me when I’m in the tub.”

“You’ve never asked.”

[badmadz05]

the whole meal, the desert and the bill you can’t afford. xoxo 💋

let us know if we should start an account together. 🫣 @bluntblowingmamabackup

[canonrpfinder]

21f seeking a long-term writing partner to fulfill some of my favorite ships/fandoms! a little about my preferences: i’m a multipara/novella writer who HEAVILY prefers discord, though we could definitely chat about tumblr rp if we get along super well! prefer quick replies so if you can only send a little bit that’s perfectly fine too! only looking for those 18+ to write with, and am super open to writing smut as long as the thread is not completely pwp. have no preference writing either character for ships, and top/bottom are both totally fine with me! i love being friends, making spotify playlists, pin boards, etc.; so bonus points for that!!

ships i’m into writing/most looking for as of now (exclamation points is highly sought after):

• carmen berzatto/sydney adamu (!!) (the bear)

• art donaldson/patrick zweig (challengers)

• katniss everdeen/peeta mellark (the hunger games)

• coriolanus snow/lucy gray baird (the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds and snakes)

• jake seresin/bradley bradshaw (top gun: maverick)

• tom kazansky/pete mitchell (top gun)

• michael myers/laurie strode (halloween)

• stu macher/billy loomis (scream)

• arthur morgan/john marston (!!) (red dead redemption 2)

• arthur morgan/charles smith (red dead redemption 2)

• tyler owens/kate carter (!!) (twisters)

• any and all euphoria ships (but preferably me musing nate jacobs)

• ellie williams/dina (the last of us)

• sokka/zuko (avatar the last airbender)

• thorin oakenshield/bilbo baggins (the hobbit)

aaand probably a million more!! if you’re interested at all like this post and i’ll message you! :) thanks for reading my uber long blurb!!!

✒

[kinshipguild]

♥ HEAR YE! HEAR YE! ♥

♥ Stream Affiliate Anniversary!!! Will be live and chatting as we work on a PNGtuber variant of our systemwide Fursona to use in the future! Tune in for arting, music, and a funky granite and marble construct!! ♥

♥ https://twitch.tv/kinship_guild ♥

Thank you to @agravicartist for the ID in the ALT!

[solbaby7]

Put On A Show

pairing: Rhysand x reader

warnings: smut, exhibitionism, explicit language, some light degradation, i couldn’t help myself guys sorry

Summary: Rhysand brings you along as a plus one to a celebration at the Court of Nightmares and you put on a special show for your High Lord

—

High Lord of the Court of Nightmares.

Lord of Night.

Death Incarnate.

There’s no place for the teasing smiles, the playful jokes or restrained power here. All the things of Rhysand that you’d grown accustomed to was swapped out for that arrogant smirk, the pristine elegance of his attire that exuded centuries of wealth but beyond all of that; his most noticeable accessory was the ebbing darkness that seemed to loom around him. “I’m sorry for how I talk to you down there. I can’t—they can’t see me that way.”

“I promise I won’t take it personally,” You’d told him, meaning it no matter how high your brows shot up when he’d sheepishly handed over your outfit for the night.

If you could call it that.

It was basically see though, soft fabric just barely covering your breasts, criss-crossing at the stomach before settling into a skirt that barely covered your backside when you walked. Rhys had insisted on a little precaution, waving a hand and covering you in tattoos so dark it looked like the night sky was plucked from above and stamped into your skin. The intricate designs didn’t move when you touched them but anytime you’d accidentally brushed into Azriel or bumped shoulders with Mor, the ink smeared. “You marking me or something?”

It was meant as a joke but he’s serious when he answers. “Yes.”

Your roll falls into place when you’re winnowed to the front entrance of the Hewn City and instantly you understand why none of the Inner Circle came here much. The air smelled of mischief; chaos bled from the windows and greed reared its head when the High Lord sauntered through the front doors like he owned the place—he did.

The shift in the room happens quickly, guards dressed to the tee in heavy armor and swords sharp enough to disembowel with one sickening swing; men who’d fought in great battles and devastating wars, bowing to their knees at the sight of him.

This version of Rhysand eats it up, chin high and nose higher as he looked down on each and every person in attendance. Gone was the male with great dreams of peace and prosperity; dreams of a place where people of all types called home without fear of it being ripped from them at any moment.

This version of Rhysand was the fear.

He was the darkness that lurked around at night, waiting and watching patiently for his victims to slip up so he could reach out and capture them in his dark web. “All of this, for me?” The High Lords voice clears across the room easily with everyone so silent, heads bowed and the few who’d bravely raised their eyes to feast on a slice of your skin was met with the silent threat of death by the shadowsinger that followed your flank. “I’m flattered.”

The High Lord sits comfortably in his thrown, legs spread wide and arms lazily spread out on the sides. For the first time since you’d gotten here, he looks at you, beckoning you forward with a cocky little jerk of his head and only when you stand before him does he allow the others to rise. “You sit.” He tells you though, gesturing proudly to the spot on his lap and you resist the urge to see other people’s reactions when you obey.

Despite the dark ambiance, something about the unsettling atmosphere intrigued you; eyes catching over carefully carved dragons with wings that seemed never-ending as it curved around the walls, the crown moulding and ceiling like it was preparing to take flight and burst through the roof. The citizens of the Hewn City, you find are equally as unsettling; groups of people coming up to bow and greet their High Lord, shamelessly taking in the ample curves left on display by your flimsy attire. “Pretty, isn’t she?” The Lord of Darkness questions after a moment, violet eyes fixed on the curve of your spine before settling on the armored male to the left.

The male swallows thickly, his gulp audible when he nods just barely. “Yes, High Lord.”

Rhys hummed in agreement, the back of his hand beginning to trace the curve of your shoulder when you hear some muffled voice coughing out “whore”. The touch leaves and that ebbing darkness grows again, robbing the man who’d dare utter the syllables of his breath. The man’s hands reach for his throat, eyes wide as his mouth gapes open and closed like a fish plucked out of the water and you don’t place your hand on the High Lords chest until the man’s face is a unusual shade of blue. “Aw, let him go. He’s just mad you’ve got me all to yourself,” You lean in closer, voice sultry and a little bored when you settle deeper into his chest. “Poor bastard probably doesn’t even know what to do with his equipment under all that armor.”

Another best of time passes before you hear the desperate gasp behind you and the feeling that washes over you when seeing the part of Rhysand he kept hidden—the all powerful Lord of Destruction ready to ruin anyone in his way.

Lust.

The man is forgotten, carried away by his friends and briefly you notice Cassian and Mor drifting off into the crowd. Azriel remains close by, a healthy enough distance away for you to feel confident enough to grind down on the thick thigh between your legs.

“You should stop that,” The words rumble against your bare back a half a minute later, hands dripping tight at your hips to still the movements. “Unless you plan on giving them a show.”

A brow raises and your neck craned to look Rhysand in the eye, the smirk pulling on your mouth matching the same one he’d seen every time he stepped foot in this city of violence and deviant morals. “Would that please you, Lord of Darkness?”

Rhysand goes still and for a moment you expect him to deny you, hands bracing yourself to get off and apologize when his grip keeps you in place. You can’t look away when he drags your hips on his thigh the same way you had before, inky pupils devouring violet irises when you let out a breathy moan.

It captures attention and you notice Azriel step a little closer—for further protection or to watch you can’t tell and you don’t care to figure it out when a shudder runs up your spine at the delicious drag hard muscles against your clothed cunt.

Your body burns with want when your High Lord grabs a handful of your ass, forcing you to ride his thigh faster, moans spilling out like summons to the dark creatures that lurked about the Court of Nightmares. “You look so pretty like this,” His voice is gruff, raspy and he’s quick to call upon dark power, a cool sensation spreading over your skin where it touched.

“Fuck,” The curse drags on your tongue, eyes clamping shut when your orgasm washes over you, no longer caring about the eyes that burned holes into your body. No doubt every fae or creature alike could smell the scent of your arousal permeating the air but where embarrassment was supposed be was relief.

The bulge in the High Lords pants is evident, a hand sneaking down to cup it through the expensive fabric. “You think the citizens of the Hewn City want to watch their High Lord fuck his girl?”

The sound of a button popping open, a zipper sliding down and a hand settles around your throat. “Deliciously filthy thing, you are.” The top of your dress falls apart and you’re certain Azriel can see everything when Rhysand fished his cock free. “Let’s find out.”

[canonrpfinder]

hey ! i'm maeve (they\she , 20, gmt). i'm looking for a partner in either the 9-1-1 or criminal minds universe. in terms of what i want in a partner is someone (18+, rps here or discord, pref third person pov, semi-lit to novella plus).

i am flexible in plots, either canon-adjacent or a complete au, and i like mixing in both fluff and angst into plots. below are the muses i play.

9-1-1 ; buck , eddie , chimney

criminal minds ; spencer , garcia , william (only seen the first season of evolution cause i can't find the rest anywhere)

like or msg me !

🖍️

[kinshipguild]

Help Us Go To TwitchCon! Plus gift stuff to partners ♥

PT: The title reads "Help Us Go To TwitchCon! Plus gift stuff to partners" with a heart at the end in bold, large text. End of PT.

ID in ALT

ATTENTION ALL GUILD APPRENTICES, JOURNEYMEN, AND MASTER! Help us go to TwitchCon! Our goal is 500USD!

We have 2 sales available currently; One sale for all drawing being HALF OFF and the other sale is Icons being 25-50% OFF! Use !comms in Twitch Chat for details! If you just wanna tip go ahead!

We also have a Ko-fi goal for doing Pride Backgrounds for everyone that attends the scheduled stream! The goal there is 135 USD and is for getting gifts for ourself and our partners for Pride Month! Money earned through Ko-fi WILL NOT go to TwitchCon.

Other than that! We still have two Guild Quests active! Let us know if you want one or BOTH Guild Quest events to be completed!

Thank you! Three cheers for Pride Month and everyone out, closeted, or not sure what you are yet! Disabled, Neurodivergent, Veteran or Still Serving. Neopronouns, weird genders, objectum attraction, and so much more is welcomed. All queers are welcomed here and will always be accepted.

Stay weird. Stay Queer.

[solbaby7]

Burn Baby Burn

part 1

pairing: Cassian x reader

warnings: just a angsty little mess because I just so happen to love the over dramatic girlies with the victim complexes who do reckless shit to get their boyfriends/ex’s attention when they hurt your feelings. sue me.

summary: Cassian’s been busy and you come up with a plan to get his attention back—no matter how toxic your tactics may be

——

“Thinking about heading into the city for lunch, want to come?”

“Can’t,” Cassian bluntly replied, hazel eyes still trained on the paperwork before him—endless reports from the war camps he was supervising, evaluations, incoming recruits and even more paperwork for the ones who’d died in the battle with Hybern. His plate was stretched thin, no time for dates or walks in the garden to admire Elaine’s handiwork. No random kisses and greedy hands sliding down your body for just a few seconds alone in a room or a closet. “I’ve got to get this back to Rhys by the end of the week.”

You nod in understanding, a little gasp sounding when another idea spurs. “Maybe I could just make us something for here? I’ll light a few candles and maybe I can help you get through it quicker?”

He shakes his head, dark hair tied in a messy bun at the back of his head, stray strands falling from its hold to tickle at the backs of his ears and neck. “Another time, sweet girl. I could use the quiet.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is evident and before Cass would’ve clocked it, would’ve put his papers down with a smile as he leaned back in his chair and beckoned you forward. There would’ve been kissing and compliments and achingly gentle apologies muttered into soft skin as his calloused hands grabbed handfuls of your ass. “Well, I love you.”

Tears prick at your eyes when Cassian doesn’t really say it back, just hums in acknowledgement before you leave the room. Self-doubt settles in by time you round the corner to the sitting room, hands shaking when you reach for the decanter and pour a glass so thick it makes you groan as it goes down. You suck in a sharp breath through your nose, willing away the tears because it was stupid and he was busy and it wasn’t really that big of a deal because he loved you; even if he was too busy to say it—or show it lately.

The glass fills once more, this time you drink it slower, a palm bracing on the counter for support as your sort your thoughts, so consumed in your own embarrassment, your own insecurity and dark questions snapped around your brain like snakes begging for a meal, spewing their venom. You don’t even notice the person sitting on the couch, smutty book lowered to take you in.

You still don’t notice them when you finish the second glass, your hands less shaky but the insecurity never leaves and neither do the tears when your mind wanders once more. You fill the glass a third time before scoffing to yourself and snatching the whole decanter and cradling it to your chest with full intent to bring it back to your room and polish it clean. You’re nearly at the door when you hear a page turn and the yelp that emits is comical, body jumping and hands barely maintaining their grasp on all the glass in your hands. “Mother above—you scared the hell out of me.”

Nesta raised a brow, silently surveilling the liquor, the red eyes and frown lines. “Throwing a party?”

A pity party.

“Something like that.” You shuffle from foot to foot, nose sniffling and embarrassment spreading now that you’ve been caught in such a vulnerable state.

“You alright?”

You debate saying anything, fingers toying with the ridges in the glassware, teeth biting at the soft skin of your inner cheek. “No, not really.” There’s a pause, steely eyes expectant and a pointer finger held her page in place as she closed the book in her lap. “I think—I feel like, maybe, Cassian isn’t as into me as he once was.”

“Why do you think that?”

You let out a sigh, falling into the couch across from her, the liquor sloshing in your glass but nothing spills as you settle into the pillow with your legs crossed. “He’s just been so busy lately and I understand that he’s busy—really, I do.” You take a gulp of your drink, suddenly wishing Elaine was up; she was always baking some tasty new recipe for cookies or frosted cakes, pies with freshly sliced fruit baked inside and a wicker basket crust on top. “But Rhys is really busy too and he’s always got time to pull Ferye into some room to get some.” You finally met her eyes when you confess, nose scrunched in disdain. “It’s been weeks since he’s even touched me.”

“And just breaking up with the idiot isn’t an option?”

“Not the first one, no.”

Nesta sighed, some life finally returning to her skin after consistently eating instead of surviving on wine and stale bread in that apartment she used to hole up in. “Then, the way I see it, your only other option is to show him what he’s missing.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, opening her book back and settling her eyes at the top of the page. “Get his attention.”

Your gaze goes distant, hands moving mechanically as you finish your drink, mulling her words over before standing up abruptly. You rid yourself of the decanter, the liquor already settling into your system and warming you from the inside out. “Thanks.”

The whole week, you follow her advice to a tee.

Sexy lingerie with lacy thigh highs, underwear and a figure hugging corsets, nothing but fucking heels and all goddamned week—nothing. Not even a single glance.

Your anger builds and you kick things up a notch, resorting to sleeping on the couch, being sure to take many pillows and the main blanket when you leave but when you return the following morning—there’s no sign that Cassian had ever even come home.

Everything reaches its boiling point during a meeting called by the High Lord himself, the Inner Circle tucked around a large table, the lights dim and air a little stuffy with the incense burning. You’re supposed to be listening, Rhysand’s mouth is moving and the others are pitching in, exchanging words but none of them reach your ears, your eyes focused on Cassian on the other side of the table.

He’s calm—casual in the way he pitches ideas, joking about it being a no brainer for him to be picked on a mission if it involved needing to distract someone with their looks. You scoff before you can catch yourself and while everyone else looks confused, Nesta has a growing smirk in the corner of her mouth. “What?”

“Nothing.” It’s not convincing and you don’t bother to acknowledge the fact that everyone was exchanging glances around you, suddenly clued in on the fact that maybe there was trouble in paradise. You suck in a sharp breath, hands crossed before you on the table as you look over at Rhys. “How about you just send me?”

Rhysand raised a brow, back straight and shoulders square as dark hair fell over his forehead. “I hadn’t considered that you’d want to. You don’t even like Eris.”

“No,” You agree, the word drawled out. “But he likes me and that’s kind of really all that matters if you want this to work right? Someone gets in, procures the intel you need and gets out before anyone suspects a thing.”

There’s a pause and only the crackling sound of the fire fills the space before the High Lord murmurs out a surprised, “I suppose there couldn’t be any harm if you’re offering.”

Cassian lets out a noise of disapproval, face stoney and filled with defiance. “There’s plenty harm—are you kidding? There’s no way she’s fit for the job.”

“A better fit than you.” You retort snappily, hands curling into fists at his words; the blatant lack of faith in you sending an uneasy, bubbling sensation in your belly. “I’m practically shaking at the thought of having one males attention for a whole night. In fact, it would be my pleasure to distract him into giving me what I want.” Nesta lets a laugh pass her lips at your words, not bothering to hide her amusement when you stand from your seat. “If we’re done here, I should start looking for a dress now. Something skimpy and fireproof.”

You don’t have to turn back to know you’d won this round—the splitting sound of a chair breaking against the wall was answer enough.

An hour passes, two—three before a knock sounds at your door. “It’s open.”

Mor enters seconds later, a dress draped over her arm and a grim expression on her face. You’d known her history with Eris; guilt twisting for not thinking about her before diving head first into your selfish plan, too caught up in the moment to consider how your words could’ve affected her. “That wasn’t really like you down there.”

You ignore her words. “I’m sorry about what I said—I didn’t. I should’ve taken your feelings into consideration.”

She waves you off, face still a little pale but Mor doesn’t linger on it too long, either too afraid or too tired to rehash old traumas. Instead she points to the dress in her hand, certainly skimpy but quite beautiful. It was warm, all deep reds and rich golds with diamonds that sparkled like embers in a flame when the light caught it. “You should wear it—not quite fireproof but I think it should fit just fine.” Her shoulder bumps yours playful when she passes you, sifting through your shoes and jewelry to pair with it when she drawls out a, “So, what’s the deal with you and Cass?”

Your eyes roll instantly. “Nothing. He’s a grade A prick and I’m over it.”

She raised a brow, glancing at you over her shoulder, taking in your furrowed brow and deep scowl even as your hands traced gently over the dress. “Over it?”

“Over being ignored and shoved to the side. Like seriously, maybe I should join one of those war camps as one of his new recruits. That way he’ll be forced to at least look at me for longer than thirty seconds.” Your anger feels like it becomes a tangible thing, a bubbling ball of molten lava that burned everything it touched and for a moment, Morrigan softened. “You know what, I don’t want to talk about this. I leave in an hour and I could use a bath—and more wine.”

You stomp off to retrieve just that, disappearing into the bathing chamber with the whole bottle when Nesta rested her shoulder in the doorway, that same little smirk in the corner of her mouth when she regarded Mor. “Just when I was beginning to think nothing interesting ever happened around here.”

Part 2 coming soon

[canonrpfinder]

hello! 21+ looking for 18+ writers for a THUNDERBOLTS roleplay. preferably someone who writes in a descriptive nature, multiple paragraphs. long term is preferred but short term is alright too. 🎯🎯

i have just seen the movie and am absolutely obsessed with bob and yelena so i’m looking for someone who would be interested in writing bob opposite my yelena.

if interested , drop a like !!

🖍️

[findroleplay]

I’m 20+ female, she/her, I’m looking for new rp partner.

My timezone is American Central time.

•18+ partners

•Discord preferred

•MxM pairings

•Original content preferred (oc x oc)

•Hetalia (cc x cc) (cc x oc)

•Open to other fandoms, must discuss

•collaborative plotting (making world, meeting, looks. The basics at least)

•fading to black preferred

•open to DISCUSS mild smut before doing it

•mild violence okay

•literacy: Semi-Lit. able to be adjusted, but i can’t do more than a paragraph at the most. a few sentences at least.

•replies multi times a day is preferred.

•quick responses, within reason, is preferred

•OOC chat is a must. it is nice to talk ooc to plan and just be social.

•No ghosting!

Favorite Genres:

•Romance (More simple falling for one another. Not flashy)

•Fantasy

•(post) apocalyptic (Zombies, Nuclear)

•dystopian

•simple (school, coffee shop etc)

•Gods (oc) au

•Powers/Mutant aus

Open to other ideas

Prefer first meetings aus

Fandoms:

Mainly in one fandom, Hetalia.

But open to others if I know them.

Characters i roleplay as in Hetalia

•Prussia, 1p + 2p

•2p America

Open to ships but mainly have enjoyed:

•1p Ame x 2p Ame, 1p Ame x 1p Pru, 1p Ame x 2p Pru, PruCan, PruDen

My Ocs are flexible and made for each au. They are made to go with other’s ocs and I enjoy making new boys. Be open to questions as we rp for clarity or ideas. Be open to pics as they help me make my ocs.

Please Dm me if you are interested

[beatheprincess]

When your parents say you're too old for christmas but the little in you wants to write a christmas list, set out cookies and milk for santa and unwrap gifts in the morning. <3

[kinshipguild]

ID: A minimally colored picture of V2 and V1 from ULTRAKILL playing a game a "Go Fish". V2 is just holding card while V1 is holding cards and flipping off V2. Both have their wings closed. V2 asks in brackets and all caps "Got any 9s?" V1 mimics their Style Meter by saying in all caps "+Parried +Disrespect +Go fuck yourself". V2, responding in slightly smaller text but still in all caps "Jeez. You could had just said no." End of ID.

♥ HEAR YE! HEAR YE! ♥

♥ Not feeling to good to rage at RW so Lethal Company it is! Playing with a couple partners today and being Navigation for them! Tune in for gaming, music, and a strange goofy beastfolk! ♥

♥ https://twitch.tv/kinship_guild ♥

[therealmofamorus]

SMBK (Smash, Married, Breed,? And Kill): Team RWBY (Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long) of RWBY

[jazzstarrlight]

Finally finished an old oneshot I've had in the works for a while.

COPPERRIGHT ALEART!

Enjoy.!

[solbaby7]

Take What You Need

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings: just swearing and porn with little plot, prolly a few typos

summary: Stress wears hard on a General's body, so you offer up yours in hopes to provide some much need relief

—

He'd been working so hard.

Forgetting to eat some days and once you'd noticed, you made a point to wake up a bit earlier than normal; a whole hour before he'd stir awake to ensure he had a warm meal and a canteen full of water that you'd ordered be refilled at least twice throughout the day. Cassian always grumbled out some complaint while sleuthing his swords between large wings; hands still wiping sleep from his eyes but he always came home with it empty and a little more life in his cheeks.

"Why not just take a little vacation?" You murmur into his shoulder later than night, his fighting leathers a heap on the ground and Cassian's giant body is pliant in your touch, muscles relaxed from a hot bath and head cushioned by your thighs as your fingers rake through inky hair. "Rhysand wouldn't mind."

"I know but I have too much to do—too little time to get it done. I can't get distracted at a time like this; when Velaris and its people need their safety ensured the most."

It's another version of the same thing he'd always said when you'd ever tried to suggest such a thing but you don't fight it and no anger builds because you know how much this means to him; being able to use his skills to protect his family and his home. "I understand your responsibilities completely; I only worry about the toll they take on you." Your point is easily proven, hands grazing over bare skin and while the hard lines and strong muscle is attractive and jaw dropping, the pained groans that pass full lips makes your heart lurch from the soreness that followed. "When do you get to relax?"

"Whenever you bend over my desk and let me have my way with you."

He means it as a joke—you think. A boyish smirk on manly features, eyes closed in content as you continue your exploration, knuckles grazing the membraneous wings behind him and you'll never grow tired of the goosebumps that litter your skin at the moan that pulls from him. "Okay," You whisper, legs moving below him and he goes to complain, eyes peeling open to make some spoiled little comment about how he hadn't yet given you permission to stop your caring touches but the words never leave his brain. Not when you'd peeled off your—his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind you. "Then have your way with me."

Cassian doesn't answer right away, a little stunned by the breasts displayed perfectly in his line of sight, the dangling little belly ring you'd done yourself with a clean needle and entirely too much time alone. "You're serious?"

"Very." It comes out like a hum, a pleased smile on your face and confidence swells now that you've effectively stunned him to silence with so few words. "You work hard," You explain, eyes actually appreciating the bare skin before you. "I see it and I'm proud of you and if all I can do to help you feel a little better at the end of the day is by being your stress relief—then, I'd be happy to oblige."

He takes no longer to ponder it, rising up and taking in your bare chest like it were the first time all over again. "It's been a rough week, sweet girl." For a second, you think he tells you to fill the silence, to ease you into his fingers hooking into the waistband of your night shorts to slide them down your thighs and over the length of your legs; its dangling over one ankle when he moves on to the next, a low groan emitting when he takes in the bare cunt beneath. "So fucking good to me," Cassian praises and it's when a strong soldiers hands curl around your thighs, fingers gripping at your hips when he drags your ass over the arm of the couch. It's a strain on your back, hips jutted in the air and spine stuck in an arch but you push the mild discomfort aside at how much praise he offers for it. “You just always know exactly what I need.”

The position does little protect you from the ravenous assault of Cassian’s mouth that lowers down against your cunt; lips smacking kisses and tongue darting out to explore until your legs were searching for purchase—something to hold onto or maybe to push against to feel more of his mouth or push it off, you can’t tell but the pleasure is addicting.

Weeks and weeks of your fingers that could never quite compare to Cassian’s; digits thick and skilled when they coat themselves in your arousal and shove it back inside. Every filthy moan encourages him, positive reinforcement fueling his ego more than a million compliments on his physical appearance and he doesn’t slow down until you’re dripping between your legs and struggling for breath. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I have many times before unless something here has changed.”

He chuckles at your smart mouth, the snarky response second nature and he probably would’ve let it go if he wasn’t so high on the dominance—the way you were so quick to offer up your body to him and lay at his mercy while he fucked off the stresses of his job. His heart clenches at the huge display of trust, hands gentle after working an orgasm from you; slick fingers grazing over the soft curve under your breasts. You expect him to linger there; to stick to his usual routine and work as many hickeys onto the malleable flesh until there was no space left to mark but it doesn’t happen.

Just one kiss is pressed to the center of your chest, ears a cutely aware of the boxers dropping to the floor and the throbbing cock burning between your thighs when he smiles down at you with a look you can’t place. "Remember something for me, yeah?"

You nod, words escaping you as you try and fail to figure out that glint in hazel eyes darkened by blown pupils. He's slow about it at first; intentional in the way he teases you with the weeping head of his cock and it takes everything in you not to squirm against the bruising grip on your hips. "I love you."

Your brows furrow at the sentiment, ready to return it either way when it becomes clear why Cassian was being so sweet—so kind and eager to give you pleasure before taking his own because something curls in your stomach when you watch the way he braces himself. Certain he can hear the way you swallow thickly, you glance up at him, voice hesitant. “Cass—“

He cuts you off with a gentle shush, almost placating as he watches where the two of you begin to join and the thick stretch of his head is barely inside before he’s talking again. “You said you wanted to help, right? Help baby, be a good girl and take me.”

It’s easy to give him what he wants when you go boneless in his grasp, each excruciatingly perfect inch of his cock fucking into you like you were as insubordinate and stubborn as his recruits. If it weren’t for the unwavering grip on your hips, the sheer weight behind his thrusts alone would’ve been enough to push you clean off the couch.

It would’ve been a mercy—a reprieve from the brutal pace spurred by your words and there’s nothing you can do but take him, moans spilling and eyes squeezing shut as every single nerve ending felt like it was being electrocuted over and over and over again.

The love shows in his words even when he fucks like he hates you, cock unbelievably deep from this position and the sound of your pussy slurping up his girth is obscene. It couldn’t get any better; watching the hard lines fade to relief, nothing but unrestrained pleasure screwed up on golden skin and your eyes flutter shut when a hand slides up to your throat. “Too good to me,” His voice catches and you know he’s close but there’s something comforting about the fingers loosely gripped around your neck. “—don’t deserve you for a second.”

You’re trying to tell him that it’s not true—that he deserves more than you could ever scrounge up but the words don’t come because Cassian is and he’s spilling such sweet words out even though his fingerprints are bruised into the skin of your hips and you’re certain there’s no way you’re going to be doing much else but sleeping anytime soon. It doesn’t matter, not when his seed is so warm inside and his face finally looks calm as he watches it spill out of you. “Cass—“

“I know you’re tired baby,” The hand around your throat shifts into gentle knuckles dragging slow lines against your cheek; a sweet gesture meant to distract while his other hand stroked around a quickly growing cock. “—but I’m not quite finished yet.”

[othello-pasha]

The 50 Year Old Adolescents

It's been stated, that some of our adult men at 30 single and successful, are just successful adolescents in relationships. y- lots focused on studies in grade school, while in college they focused on relationships with the university professor and more books. no girls - next they focused on careers - leaving an absences in the opposite sex. so finally when they reached the pinical of success -- it's with everything but a woman. so they try and date there peers and fail measurably y relationinmutirity. The option that's most comfortable - is there level of sexual balance --- teens.

so they spend time working with youth and trying on panties with young girls for fun.