↳ ageless/blank blogs dnf
18+ content, mirror sex (for his bday and definitely not a projection of my own fantasies), doggy style, reverse cowgirl (?), against the mirror, dick grayson is an ass man
thinking about dick grayson who has you face down, ass up in front of the mirror, pulling you back into his thick dick rather than thrusting into you. the force he uses has his balls slapping into your thighs, holding your legs closer together for that echo he wants each time your skin makes contact with his. dick’s looking at you in the reflection, mouthing off about how sexy you look. he gets caught in the moment and his hands slide away from your hips to palm your ass, and the way you have to fuck yourself onto him before your orgasm teeters away nearly pushes him over the edge. your eyes drift away from the reflection of his arms and abs flexing with each thrust, mewling into your arm as you fuck yourself back. you’re doing most of the work now, hands clinging to the sheets to add a bit more force to it.
now you’re taking his cock all on you own; ass on full display for him while you watch yourself bounce on his cock in the mirror. up and down, ass smacking against his pelvis to make a lewd clap each time and dick’s moaning at the view he has. propped up on his elbow, making you yelp a few times when he smacks your ass. at first, there’s deep crescent marks in the sides of his thighs from having to hold yourself upright, now fading once he feels your pace falter. at that point, he’d plant his feet firmly into the hardwood floor off the edge of the bed, locking your arms into his hand behind you and plowing his cock into you.
still, his poor girl gets so tired after fucking herself onto him. just to help you out, he’s standing now- bending you over nothing and forcing your palms into the mirror to hold up your upper half. he’s damn near picked you up by your hips, eyes glued to your ass and the pretty arch in your back before catching a glimpse of your fucked out face pressed into the mirror. the room’s dowsed in sex, fog settling on the glass and making it knock against the wall. there are tears swelling in your eyes, incoherent whimpers for a break that get louder each time he makes your legs buckle. ‘m almost done, doll, dick would groan for the third time, this ass was just made for me, baby. you really can’t blame me. ❧
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I know it’s common for RE fans to lament the fact that Leon never got to live his dream of being a cop but I feel like he was going to have a severely rude awakening resulting in the loss of his innocence either way. His chief of police was a serial rapist and murderer who liked to taxidermy his victims’ bodies. In an AU where umbrella never existed and there’s no zombies he most likely would have been harassed/threatened off the force bc he tried to expose Irons.
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do you ever think about how in the day i picked up dazai side b dazai had to lie emotionless and soulless—like a corpse, almost—beside the man that gently brought him in, nursed his injuries, held him while he was in pain? he had to keep those suffocating bandages around his entire face, lest this man gain some sort of recognition for the little boy he saved. he had to lay there curled in the fetal position, bleeding and in pain, perhaps thinking about how, in another life, this man cooked for him, tried to build up his strength. read to him to pass the time while he curled up against him like a child listening to a bedtime story. played cards with him. saw through the heartless mafioso. the ruthless killer. and instead saw a boy.
imagine knowing this man, the man who saved you in more ways than one, was going to die one day all because he knew you. because he reached his hand into the darkness and plaintively, like a small child wanting a parent's touch, you grasped back desperately. imagine thinking all of that while that man is just a stone's throw away, making coffee in the next room just like he used to for you in another life. the scent, although you've never been here before, is reminiscent of home. and the tune he's humming? it's the silent melody that plays through your mind seven years later, for the last time as you fall backward off the building with your arms out like an embrace. but, hey. that man is alive. he's happy, although he never knew you. you can die with no regrets.
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