#but i don't play that much apex now so i still don't have that much plot for them

[kaiserouo]

Thank you for always drawing Bloodhound(s). I can never find standalone Bloodhound art anymore maybe except from you. 💜👍

Thank you! I think there's just less and less people that would still draw them now, especially on tumblr where apex fandom is not as bustling as that on twitter i guess.

You could still scout for older art of them on twitter or pixiv like some kind of modern archeologist but still, houndy deserves more love especially after respawn seems to just don't wanna develop their story beyond fuse anymore.

[astrxealis]

man i wanted ffxv comrades for the longest time. fun fact but like. it's been less ever since i got into ffxiv but i've always been super into games w character customization (bcs ocs or self-insert stuff lol) !! so all mmos i've gotten into (most on mobile bcs i never really was a pc gamer </3 or played online games on ps until xiv) are bcs of the character customization actually. even ffxiv (but also esp bcs i love final fantasy). man i hope i can get ffxiv comrades sometime ??

[ln4bub]

and i conclude with 36 + lando

(ofc no pressure on any of the asks, feel free to ignore any/all of them if they don’t tickle ur fancy hehe)

It’s winter break and you’ve never been more grateful to have Lando home, except for the fact that all he's done is game with Max.

Every. Single. Night.

First it was Rocket League, and then Counter Strike, and then Tarkov, and now you were sat in the background watching him yell at Fall Guys. Part of you had to admit that it was comical watching him try and fail so many times, but you wanted attention. There was only so much watching you could do, you're just a girl after all. You silently make your way over to Lando's gaming chair, draping yourself over the side to rest your chin on his shoulder. "How much longer will you be baby?" You whisper, lifting his headset slightly so he hears you.

"Like an hour maybe, I'm not sure. Why? Are you hungry? I can order food?" He suggests, eyes flicking briefly from the screen to look at you. "Don't need food." You whine, pouting lightly before placing a gentle kiss to Lando's neck. He swallows thickly, "Babe my friends can all hear, what do you want me to do?" He murmurs, muting himself whilst he waits for the next round. "Want you Lando." You tell him, continuing to press kisses across his neck, travelling along his jaw, feeling it clench with each soft touch of your lips.

"Just let me finish this level and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times." He tells you, pleading eyes under his glasses. You sigh, "Fine. But I'm holding you to that." He winks up at you before unmuting himself and picking up his controller to play the next round. You lay yourself on the centre of the bed, zoning out on your phone as Lando continues playing. You hear the occasional yell or slam of the controller, nothing unusual when he's gaming. You get lost in the world of Instagram, swiping through Daniel's end of season .jpg post.

You forget about Lando's promise, that is until you feel his warm hands on your thighs. You jump with the touch and he chuckles at you, "Gonna let me fulfil my promise baby?" He whispers, his warm breath tickling the apex of your thighs. Lando smirks when you raise your hips to allow him to remove your pyjama shorts. "Thank you princess." He smiles, kissing your lips before returning to his position between your legs. His lips explore your inner thighs, hands gently prying your legs apart. Soft whimpers escape your lips at the light scratch of his new facial hair.

His lips cover practically every inch of your thighs before his tongue darts out to flick at your entrance, collecting the arousal that's collected there. He starts slow, snaking his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking gently as his hand rests on your pubic bone, keeping your hips still. His lips encase your clit, causing you to moan out as he sucks lightly, his tongue swirling and flicking. He eats you out like a man starved, uncaring about the way your arousal coats his mouth or the way his spit begins to soak you further.

He brings his finger to your entrance, circling it around the pulsing hole before pushing in. Your hips buck as your back arches away from the mattress, Lando moaning against your pussy at the way you clench around his finger. He curls his finger, his tongue working overtime on your clit as he slips a second finger in to join the first.

"Fuck Lando, oh my god." You moan, hand gripping the back of his head, tangling in his curls. He continues his ruthless pace drawing your first orgasm from you unbelievably quickly, but he doesn't stop. He slows his pace, lightly guiding you through your orgasm. Once he feels the pulsing of your walls slow he curls his fingers once more, attacking your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You scream out in overstimulation, your legs shaking as his hand becomes sticky with arousal. His hips begin to rut into the mattress, desperate for an ounce of friction. Your first orgasm hardly fades as the second one barrels into you, your walls clenching Lando's fingers so tight he could swear they would break.

This time he does pull away, encouraged by the way you frantically push at his head. You use your grip on his head to pull his lips to yours, he groans in your mouth at the feeling of your tongue. His groan turns into a whimper as you cup his bulge, massaging gently. He wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling your hand away, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"I said at least three didn't I?" He smirks, kissing his way back down your stomach to finish his meal.

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Inspired by this anon along with the amazing snippet @kit-williams wrote for it

Relationships: Vulkan/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Pred/Prey, Rough sex, Blood

You fall again, and the jagged rocks bite at your knees and palms. Little speckles of blood dot across your palms as you look at him, before quickly getting up and trying to run again.

A stupid mistake- now he'll be able to smell exactly where you are. He already can, you know the scent of your sweat lingers in the air like smoke, but fresh blood is like a beacon you can't get away from fast enough.

You lost him for a short while, slipping through a tunnel that wasn't large enough for him to get through. Your smaller stature remains your single advantage you have against him.

But the tunnels echo sound incredibly well, and you can sometimes hear his footsteps ringing through the system of caves. He can hear yours as well, tracking you down and gaining on you.

"Did you cut yourself? I can smell the blood,"

Entering one of the wider, huge main tunnels you look around quickly for a little rat hole to take next, trying to avoid standing like prey in the middle of such a huge area. You think you see a few options, but the one farthest down seems the smallest, and your best bet.

Rushing towards it you're almost there when you suddenly hear the sound of his footsteps thundering through the system of caves; Rocks crumbling underneath his feet.

"There you are,"

He appears at the far end of the tunnel blocking off your exit, and you nearly fall attempting to scramble backwards.

You know he's just playing, that this is just a fun game you had propositioned, but when he starts running towards you every primal, instinctual animal part of your brain tells you he's a predator- to run- you let out a bloodcurdling scream that rips through your throat and puts spittle on your lips.

Quickly you scramble towards the closest tunnel that you think can't fit him, but only by a few feet. Dug by the astartes you assume.

Vulkan however laughs at your screams, like a wolf driven by the squeaks of an limping, injured rabbit.

He's being slow on purpose, letting you run into your safe tunnel out of his reach. He's trying to extend the game on purpose and enjoy it. He could catch you in an instant if he truly wanted to, but half the fun is stalking you; Cornering you.

In a less stressful time you might find it interesting how despite him being so much softer than his fellow primarchs, there is still that latent, apex predator instinct in him that loves this. You aren't supposed to run from predators, it triggers that prey drive in them, and that's exactly what you think Vulkan is feeling when you scurry away from him. There's something in his eyes that's changed the few times you've caught sight of him since the hunt started.

"I can hear you're getting tired. How much longer do you think you can keep this up?"

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as you hide, seeing him walk past the entrance you just went into.

You try to watch and listen as his footsteps trail farther and farther away, and you assume he's going to the other side of the tunnel you're in. Cautiously peeking out the way you went in you don't see him, or hear him, and quickly you scurry out to try another way.

Down the large main tunnel you run and try to ignore the burning in your throat; You're so thirsty, you'd almost consider letting him catch you to just get some water.

You don't know how long it's been- It could only have been an hour for all you know. But you're so tired, stopping in front of a step in your path.

For an astartes it would be a steep step up, but for you, it's a small climb. You jump and with a grunt manage to fold yourself onto it, legs dangling. Your feet kick trying to dig your shoe in to get purchase on the rocks, trying to wiggle higher and get the rest of your body up.

suddenly you feel the ground begin to shake, the sound of his footsteps quickly begins to close in.

You gather all the strength you can to try and clamber for more purchase on the rocks, feeling your heart begin to race as you panic. Despite everything telling you not to you turn around and see him come into view, right towards you. Once he realizes that you're partly stuck he quickens, and you let out another scream as you quickly try and pull up your other leg. But each rock you get a toe on crumbles, causing your heart and your breathing to quicken as he approaches.

You manage to get to your hands and knees on the stone only for him to suddenly grab you by the legs, and you let another another scream. Your hands dig into the dust and dirt and rocks to try and clamber away, kicking your legs at his arms. For a moment you almost don't even remember this is Vulkan- your mind is just saying run.

"You thought you could sneak around me?"

Dragging you across the stone floor to him he lets you dangle off the step, lying on your stomach while your legs hang of the edge. He's tearing at your clothes, your bottoms torn to shreds and you gasp as you feel the weight of his cock against you. The thick head of his cock slips between your outer lips and pushes against your entrance, and you feel the burn of your muscles trying to stretch while the dirt and stone scratches your skin. Your dry throat can only manage to let out a pathetic cry, one that hiccups as your parched mouth can't keep the noise smooth.

"The hunt is over, now I can enjoy the reward."

The light in he room is dim, the candles mostly melted. You watch the little flames flicker as Vulkan puts a bandage on your torn knee, patting it gently.

"You should try to fall less down there, I wouldn't want you breaking any bones."

You puff out your cheeks full of air before blowing them at him. The warmth of his palms radiates over your skin, feeling good almost as if using a heatpack on sore muscles.

"I try not to, but it's a bit hard to keep upright when a massive primarch is running at you. You're lucky I didn't crumple to the ground and let my heart give out."

Vulkan chuckles, a soft smile on his face that makes your face grow warm.

"You know I would never truly hurt you," He says, and you nod.

"I know, but it's still terrifying," You say. Vulkan moves to bandage your other knee. "I think I could go for longer next time, though." The way he looks up at you is amused but dark, implying that you want more.

"You want to do this again?" You nod, an eagerness held within it that had you embarrassingly warm.

"Of course; I know the layout of the tunnels better now, I think I could avoid you for longer." Vulkan finishes bandaging your other knee and puts his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"You assume I would bring you to the same tunnels?" Quickly you loose your smile.

"Yes! This is your home and you dug many of these tunnels, let me have a bit of an advantage!" Vulkan laughs, hands squeezing your hips with a comfortable pressure. You swing your legs a bit and one bumps into his stomach by accident.

"That is fair." He looks at you. "You should try not to exert yourself so soon though, I knew right away you would tire yourself out and I could corner you." You look at him curiously, holding your arms.

"You want to make it more difficult for you?"

Vulkan leans in to give you a kiss. His eyes have a bit of that darkness you saw down in the tunnels.

"No true hunter enjoys easy prey. We want a real chase."

[ninibeingdelulu]

Silence ✧

Plot: You, one of the nurse of the Task Force 141, take care of his injury.

A/N: Guys— I know I said I’m gonna take a break but this have been in my mind and I wanted to share it with y’all😭 so my final post until exams is gonna be abt kaiser!!

It's been another one of those brutal ops that left the boys of Task Force 141 pretty banged up as usual.

Holed up back at the safe house, you're the only nurse on duty tonight handling their medical needs post-mission.

The door to the makeshift triage bay suddenly kicks open with Lieutenant Ghost himself stalking inside with that icy unreadable vibe he always gives off.

Like he's some sorta apex predator assessing any potential prey in his vicinity even among allies.

With his usual skull baclava, he head toward a chair without a word. Then he just calmly lifts his bloodstained shirt exposing that frighteningly huge, scarred torso built like some kinda walking brick shithouse.

You can't help the nervous gulp escaping as those piercing steel-black eyes bore straight through you standing there frozen.

Sizing you up like some helpless little rabbit ready to be ripped apart by those massive bear-paw mitts clenching fistfuls of shredded fatigues.

Until your medical training finally clicks into autopilot gear catching sight of the nasty bullet graze scorched across his lower abdominal slabs.

Gnarly enough to require patching up judging by the steady trickle still seeping out between those ridges.

You give the subtlest shake snapping out of it then retrieve the first aid kit heading over.

Carefully avoiding those glacial irises still tracking you as you silently kneel before the seated Lieutenant without uttering a word.

Once situated between those tree-trunk thighs you get to work cleaning and disinfecting the jagged wound with the antiseptic wipes.

Ghost barely even flinches when the alcohol solution hits that raw patch of burger meat - dude's an absolute stoic savant when it comes to playing through pain.

At least until you hear the faintest hiss slipping past those clenched jaws when you apply slightly too much pressure against the tender injury.

Instantly you freeze then murmur a hushed apology, letting your touch turn gossamer light yet still effectively cleaning the gash while he stays utterly motionless.

Something about the close proximity between you both suddenly amplifies, like both your heartbeats are syncing up while you focus on meticulously wrapping those sterile bandages around Ghost's midsection.

Even through all that scar-tissue cratering his abdomen you can feel the searing warmth radiating off in pulsating waves.

Against your better judgment you chance a glance upwards to check if everything's still good on his end.

But the second your gaze meets that utterly primal smokey-black stare piercing straight through you, it's like every nerve ending in your body ignites simultaneously.

Those razor-sharp raptor eyes hungrily drink in every subtle shift and flex of your form positioned so vulnerably below him.

Heart thundering against your ribcage now as realization dawns about just how terrifyingly easy it would be for those titanic arms to completely overpower and snap you like a damn twig.

Yet a deeper core-level current also hums between the charged particles gathering unbearably thick in the air around you both too.

Stoking thrills of a different sort pulsing through your veins beyond just the mortal peril his presence typically broadcasts.

By the time you finish securing the gauze wrappings and carefully rise back upright, your throat's gone bone dry.

Forcing you to swallow hard glancing away while reminding him not to overexert. To diligently rest and hydrate sufficiently over the next few recovery days so you don't hafta come redress this all over again.

But the second your back's turned gathering those scattered supplies, you audibly inhale feeling Ghost's furnace-like proximity crowding up against you from behind.

Not overtly threatening yet - rather merely an intoxicatingly heady presence amplifying that strange tension crackling across your hypersensitive nerve endings exquisitely.

Those steel-cable forearms extending across both sides bracketing you in while his ragged whisper ghosts up the nape of your neck with a scorching caress.

"Much obliged, then...for always patching us up good as new, Doc..."

The words alone already skated the boundaries of impropriety.

But coupled with that dangerously carnal subtext rumbling just beneath the surface instantly flash-fried your higher cognitive processes into vapor.

You remained utterly petrified in place absorbing the infinitesimal sensations of his titanium frame pressing so tantalizingly close yet not fully against you while Ghost silently withdrew.

Leaving your entire body combusting from the inside out without another word spoken between you both...

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

nina pt. 1

nina and annie's post-work wine sessions became something of a habit. annie slowly told her everything. nina started talking too. of particular interest to annie was the story of the campground nina's family had run for generations...

Nina's father drove her up the camp for the summer a few days after her 16th birthday. Something about that, about her age now, made her sense this summer would be different. For a few years now she and her brother had lived at the camp, and nominally worked for her mother, each year gaining more independence and freedom. Nina could feel it reaching an apex.

The camp had been in her family for as long as she could remember. When she was a little girl, her grandparents managed it. They were retired now, and so her mother and her brother, Nina's uncle Evan, managed it together every summer. Their dad came up and visited some weekends, but he had to work. They didn't see him much in the summer. Nina would miss him, she thought, looking at him as he drove, eyes on the road.

"You looking forward to the summer?" he asked her. "I like being outside so much. And the indepence." "I am sure," he said. "And the indepence is great. Honestly I don't mind having your mother out of my hair." Nina laughed.

The day before, Nina had lost her virginity. She'd impulsively fucked Joe, a friend from school, in his room after going there with him to watch a movie after running into him downtown. It had been so impulsive that Nina wasn't wearing a matching bra and panties, hadn't shaved her pubic hair in a few days. It wasn't at all how she imagined it would be. He'd lasted much longer than she'd assumed he would have--several minutes of real thrusting and moaning and kissing. And it hadn't hurt the way she'd feared it would. Pressure, sure. But more pleasure than pressure. She hadn't had an orgasm, she knew that. She was very familiar with those already. She'd given herself one later, in bed recalling her time with Joe, feeling a phantom emptiness in her pussy as she rubbed her clit.

She felt like she was marked by it, the act of sexual intercourse. She felt like she stilled smelled like his cum, most of which had ended up on her stomach, and had felt pleasantly dry and sticky all day after, even though she'd wiped most of it off. It was fully scrubbed off now, and her vagina felt normal again, and yet she could still feel it. She wondered if her father could sense it. She wanted to feel like it made her different, somehow.

At this point, her mother and her older brother Paul had already been at the camp for a week. Nina had needed to play her last games with the school volleyball team. When they pulled up to the office, which had a trailer behind it where Nina's mom and Uncle Evan slept, Nina's mom waved to them, already very tan, in shorts and bikini top. They parked and Nina got her bags and said hi to her mom and walked her bags down the loop, past the shower house and bathrooms to the only other permanent structure on the campground, a cabin where she'd be living with Paul and their cousin Cassie. There were four metal beds arranged around the room and one electric outlet which would always be charging someone's phone all summer long. The fourth bed was an all purpose storage structure. Snacks, makeup, a conspicuous little box where Cassie kept weed, and, this year, Nina clocked, condoms. Paul and Cassie were out. They were probably collecting fees from the current slate of campers -- one of their few jobs. Picking up trash, selling firewood, collecting fees, cleaning the bathrooms. That was the gig, and the three of them rotated tasks.

Nina changed into a bathing suit and walked back up the path to the front office. Her parents were MIA. For some reason, Nina didn't call out to get their attention. She had a sudden sense of what they were probably doing, and felt a weird curiosity about it. Quietly, she walked over to the trailer and peeked in the window, shielding herself from view around the corner of the structure.

Well, OK, now I have seen that, was her immediate thought. Her mother's bed was near the window. Nina knew that because at night when she'd go for walks she'd often spy her mother dangling a cigarette out the window. She'd "quit" smoking but smoked all summer in secret. Nina kind of thought it was cool.

Now, she was looking at her mom's ass, tanlines already evident, and her father's balls as her mom rode him. Nina was immediately shocked by the size of her father's cock, not so much the length, which she currently could not ascertain, but the girth. He was very thick, visibly stretching her out. It struck Nina as oddly romantic. She was still gripping him so hard after all those years of fucking. Nina looked away and slipped into the woods, crossing the campsite that way instead.

She headed in the direction of the beach, and ran into Cassie and her uncle Evan walking in that direction. Paul was out collecting, Cassie told her. Did she want to come with them to go swimming? Cassie was an only child, and her mother was dead. Nina found this fascinating. Her mother had killed herself when Cassie was 8 and Nina was 7. Nina barely remembered this. Evan had found her -- she'd hung herself in lingerie in the bathroom. Nina only knew about this because her mom had told her recently when she'd asked. Nina didn't understand why it had happened, and her mom told Nina it was because she'd been unable to have more children.

"So what?" Nina said. "I mean, she got Cassie."

"She grew up really religious," her mom had explained. "She felt her purpose on earth was to procreate. So when she lost that too early, she gave up on life.

"That's stupid," Nina said. Her mom had laughed. "I agree, but she was practically a kid."

"She was?" Evan was younger than her mom, but not by that much. "She was 25," her mom said. "Your uncle got her pregnant when she was still in high school. But don't tell Cassie that. I'm not sure she knows. They fudged the numbers a little afterward."

It didn't seem that scandalous to Nina. Her mom had had Paul when she was 20 years old, Nina when she was 22. That wasn't much older than 17.

In pictures, Cassie's mom always looked like a hippie to Nina. Long hair, sundresses, always barefoot. She looked out of place among their family, all dark-skinned, dark-haired Italian stock. These days Cassie sort of struck a balance between both worlds. Like Nina, she was slender and tall and had darker skin, big eyes and a small nose, but with long, wavy blonde hair in contrast to Nina's short dark bob. Nina was looking more and more like her mother every day, something that Evan pointed out as they reached the river and she and Cassie dove in. The water was fucking freezing. They both shrieked. Evan didn't get in. "Your mom and I shocked our systems enough doing that when we were young," he said. "I'd probably have a heart attack now."

"I think my clit froze off," Cassie said. It was a startlingly vulgar thing to say in front of her father. But he laughed even as Nina was scandalized. Nina got out first, and thus watched Cassie slowly emerge from the water. Her cousin was more beautiful than ever. Her breasts were bigger, hips wider, making her thigh gap even more pronounced. Her white bikini bottom clung to her body, and Nina could clearly see the outline of dark sculpted pubic hair. That was new. Nina had seen Cassie naked plenty of times last summer, and she'd been fully shaved like Nina still was. For some reason, Cassie's bush made Nina immediately aware of just how sexual active her cousin had certainly become.

Nina was surprised to watch Cassie walk toward her father making no effort to cover herself -- perhaps she was unaware how exposed she was? She looked at her uncle, looking at Cassie, and certainly saw his eyes go there, and flick back up, betraying nothing. It didn't upset him?

Nina flashed to an incident that spring at home, when she'd come downstairs in a skirt her father had deemed too short. Nina had playfully brushed him off, starting to use that old saying -- short enough to keep things interesting -- he'd cut her off. "You're wearing pink panties," he'd said sternly. "I know because I can see them."

"Aren't they cute?" she'd deflected again.

"You can't wear that," he'd said. "Take it off and and go change."

And he'd held out his hand, asking Nina to give him her skirt. So she did. She unfastened it, took it off, and went back to her room to put on a pair of jeans. No one else had been in the room. Nina was so surprised by the firmness and directness of her father. Her father had fleetingly seen her in underwear before, certainly, but today she felt his gaze very specifically, the heat of it on her skin.

Bizarrely, as she changed in her room, she found herself fantasizing that he'd kept his hand extended after the skirt, asking for more. She imagined herself removing her top and giving to him, and yet still his hand remained. She imagined herself carefully lowering her panties and handing them over to him as well, and then imagined him reaching for his belt, unfastening his pants. She'd stopped herself there, wondering what was wrong with her, wondering why she was soaking wet.

She'd quickly dressed and gone back downstairs and her father had approved. She'd never seen the skirt again.

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: Ezra (pre movie) x afab!reader

Summary: You need more from Ezra, but how much more can you take?

Content Warnings: smut- 18+ ONLY! MDNI. dirty talk, p in v sex, slight f oral if you blink you'll miss it, breast play, use of rope, bondage explored a little, biting, choking, condescending Ezra, sloppy kithes, fingering, mulitple orgasms, overstimulation, crying but Ezra licks your tears up, animalistic undertones perhaps, thigh biting, mentions of your neck bleeding a little but don't panic, cream pie, cockwarming, degrading undertones, praise, pet names (good girl, gem, honey, sir) I think that's everything but tell me if I've missed one.

Authors Note: Hello, sluts! buckle up, this is my submission for @iamasaddie 's writing challenge! I got #24 - Overstim w Ezra. Now I'm gonna be so real, Ezra was fucking terrifying to write for. I love a good challenge though, so here we go! Hope you enjoy & make sure to read everyone else's work who participated! Quick shoutout to my beta's for helping with the looks and contents ( @pedgito & @beskarandblasters ) along with all my hens who held my hand through this. I love you. wc: 2kish dividers by the talented @saradika-graphics !

“Ezra please, c’mon I wanna play some more, please?” You begged, tugging his hand to come lay back down in the cot. 

He’d just finished fucking you and you needed more, you craved more. 

“Sweetheart, I need to sleep, we’ve got a tremendous trip ahead of us tomorrow.” 

You groaned aloud causing him to turn around with a raised eyebrow. Normally attitude wasn’t the first thing you gave to Ezra when you were in a particular mood, but considering how desperate you were for him and all the teasing he had done throughout the day, did he really think only one round was going to suffice?

“There something you need to say to me, little one?” Ezra stands up over the small bed, fingertips dancing over your slightly sweaty skin, trailing up your thigh just above your knee. 

Leaning up on your elbows, you look up at him through your eyelashes and bite your lip. “It’s just, you’ve done nothing but mess with me all day and touch me at the most inopportune times, how can I not want more from you? You drive me crazy.”

It would just be easy for you to dip his hand down and relieve yourself with his fingers inside you, but where was the fun in that? Though you two have explored using each other for your selfish needs, that wasn’t what you wanted from him, not this time. You wanted him to ravage you, to eat you alive and savor the last bite. 

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl. Perhaps I can find it in me to satisfy what you’re needing, but under my conditions.” 

The glimmer from the lantern hanging from the top of the tent catches his eye, showing you the true darkness coming over him. Like a lion looking at its lamb prey, Ezra licks his lips and kneels down beside you on the bed, fingers still dragging ever so slowly on your thigh. Every creak of the cot shifting under the weight of you two makes your breath catch. The anticipation was insufferable and Ezra knew it. He knew it was absolute torture for you to lay there in silence as he thought about his conditions he was going to share with you.

“I’ll indulge in this moment of weakness with you, but in return you will keep your angelic voice down to a low roar, almost as silent as the unknown out there in The Green. Whatever I choose to do is my concern, but feel free to relentlessly use your safe word as you see fit, yes?”

You nod in response which causes Ezra to tut at you. 

“It’s almost too easy to take away your power to speak but I need you to say the word. Say it.” Ezra demands in a low tone, right next to your ear before he licks a small section of your cheek. 

“Yes, I understand, sir.” That always got him alive and feral. Sir. His hand moves to the apex of your thighs and rubs slowly, toying with the aching clit under his fingertips. Your mouth falls agape and already you want to moan out his name like your personal hail mary but this was just the beginning. 

“Sit up for a second, sweetheart.” 

Ezra grabs your arm with his freehand and lifts you forward just enough to get you up and he slinks down behind you on the cot, his back resting against one of the support beams he just finished digging into the ground earlier today. Your skin sticks to his chest as he grabs your shoulders to guide you back down on him, his hand once more making his way between your thighs. 

“You are such a beautiful little thing when you squirm around in my arms like that, I must admit.You should really keep still though if you wish not to have your wrists tied to this beam behind me.” 

His fingers dance around your soaking wet clit, halting any moans you may have and causing them to die in your throat before he tells you you’re being too loud. The burning feeling started in your lower tummy once more and Ezra could feel you tense up, your hips beginning to roll against his touch. Taking note, it was as if a switch flipped and as soon as your eyes rolled back, his freehand comes up your side and pinches your nipple roughly as he bites your neck, layering kisses in between a few times. 

“F-fuck, Sir, please don’t stop-p. Oh m-yy-” You croak out and arch your back off of his chest as his index and middle finger dip into your entrance. A pleased hum erupts from Ezra as he pumps back and forth inside of you. 

“Yes, just like that, baby. Soak my fingers, come on. Atta girl.” His chanting in the crook of your neck was making your back arch deeper with euphoria, whimpering with every dip of his finger hitting your g-spot. 

Ezra was getting you to the edge a lot faster than you anticipated but you weren’t complaining. His fingers toy around your nipple before pinching it once more, your clit thumping against the pad of his finger just anxious to come. 

Your knees jerked to close shut as Ezra cooed in your ear to come for him but he wouldn’t allow them to meet in the middle, to let you take away his enjoyment watching you come unraveled. The smirk plastered over his mouth was loud and clear in his words, only making you want to tip over the edge more. 

“Ezra please, please right there, right-“ you shriek out before his calloused hand that was cupping your breast, comes up to your mouth and squeezes harshly. 

“That feel fulfilling enough to you, gem?” Ezra nibbles on your ear as he groans, making a mess of your cum and rubbing it all throughout your folds. 

“No, that would be fanatical of me to think so little of you, wouldn’t it? Of course you need more.”

Before you’re able to pull his hand away from your mouth, Ezra’s fingers dip inside you once more while his grip on your face loosens, only grab the back of your neck and turn your head towards him, resting along his collarbone comfortably. Crying out his name and begging him to grant you just a second to catch your breath, he squeezes your neck in response and kisses the side of your face messily. 

“No no no no, I believe you didn’t listen to me when I spoke about my conditions. I told you what was to come if you wanted this, and by golly, you did not hesitate to agree, do you recall? Or are you so fucked out of that pretty little mind?” He rasps out before tugging you tighter against him. 

He’d stolen every single last breath from you and any shot you had at speaking. Pussy throbbing, begging to get stuffed, you whine aloud and buck into his hand more. 

Ezra rips his hand away from your dripping hole and slips out from behind you, reaching in his bag for something while you rub your thighs trying to imitate a sliver of what he made you feel. 

Nothing came close to it. 

The frayed rope comes into your view and his devilish smile flashes quickly at you before he starts to tie your wrists together, then to the beam. Licking his lips when he sees how much you squirm and need him back, Ezra holds your face gently before moving to your throat, squeezing just enough to show you he’s there. 

“You are the best one yet, I give you that. Using every last bit of mighty force in that body to keep me happy.” He gets between your legs, sloppy wet kisses trailed down the valley of your breasts and abdomen until he got where you needed him again. The sting in your flesh from his teeth shoots your eyes open and down to him where he was content with nipping at your inner thighs before he really gets to the fun. 

After this you’d have enough anticipation to last a year, maybe more. The black sweaty locks tangle under your grasp on them, eliciting a guttural moan from Ezra. 

“You smell so sweet, you make it hard for a man such as myself to behave.” A flattened tongue presses against your clit and licks forward and back down, the vibration from his groan tickling you softly. 

“Especially when you request things of this nature from me.” 

“I- I need you inside me, Ezra please. Please, I'm begging.” 

He laughs against your clit and looks at you. 

“I know you are, gem, how pathetic, isn’t it?” 

Kneeling between your legs, Ezra grabs onto the tops of your thighs and yanks you closer, the rope tightening around your skin. That’ll probably bruise later, who cares. 

“Would you be a good girl for me and rub your pretty little clit for me, sweet girl? Can you do that for me? Oh wait- you can’t.”

Hearing the condescending tone in his words turns you on even more and with his rough hands squeezing your plush thighs, groaning with every thrust inside you, your mind was in another dimension. Toying with your clit while you try to whine out his name was a new favorite sight for him and he was definitely going to remember this later.

Yet, the fire burning in your tummy from earlier didn’t die down at all. Clawing at his tummy with your freehand, Ezra grunted your name and pounded into you harder. 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come again. Take it, take it, take my cock so deep like I know you can. Be a good girl, come on.” 

His thumb meets your sensitive bud and rubs circles on your clit way faster than you would’ve. Writhing and gasping for air causes him to keep your legs spread as you once more come under his doing. 

“Again. Come on.” He demands and keeps running despite your squeaks you can’t barely get out. 

“What’s wrong, honey? Is that too much for your pretty little pussy? You can handle it, come on, one more.” 

The tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Ezra leans down, licking them up with your sweat as they drip down your cheek. The animalistic behavior that had taken over him was giving you butterflies in your stomach, maybe even the whole goddamn zoo. 

“I-I- Ez,-fuck-k-k-please-e!” You gasped out and squeezed the rope leading towards your wrists, hoping he’d cut them but that was a stupid thought. 

“Come on, gem. Scream as loud as you please if that’ll make you come harder on me, let me hear that pretty scream you have.” Ezra kisses your neck roughly and bites hard enough to break skin, tasting the metallic liquid on his tongue. 

Your muscles were starting to tighten and cramp up, your mind spinning and the words falling from your mouth before you could even think about them. 

“Just like that, you’re such a good girl for me. The way you squeeze around my cock like that- you’ll make a man go mad. Such pretty sight to watch my cock disappear in that beautiful p-“ 

Before he could grunt out the last of his words your eyes were squeezed shut and seeing stars on the insides of your eyelids. There was never a second you thought your pussy could thump has hard as it was in this moment. 

Ezra’s breath quickens as the squelching from your pussy was sending him over the edge along with your soft jolts from the orgasms hitting you still. 

In a quick moment he was filling you up to the brim with his cum, fucking it as deep as it could go inside you and collapsing on top of you, cock still inside you as he went soft. 

You must’ve been that way for a while before he reached up and untied you, kissing your breasts and nipples slowly. 

“Satisfied, gem?”

[mattzerella-sticks]

Y'know what would be a good storyline coming out of Bruce taking on the mantle of Nightwing (briefly)?

If he enjoys it a little too much.

Nightwing is freedom. Nightwing is light. Nightwing is fighting bad guys while smiling laughing throwing out a funny quip.

Things he never gets to do as Batman.

So what if, after things have settled in Bludhaven and Absolute Power has come and gone, Bruce decides to make a short visit and help out again.

As Nightwing.

"People are used to seeing Nightwing in Bludhaven. It makes more sense for there to be 2 Nightwings than for Batman to be here," Bruce argues. "Besides, this will only help you. Make it seem like Nightwing can be there at any moment."

And Dick relents. For now.

Barbara finds it strange (as does Dick) but he waves off her concerns with, "it's just an appearance here and there. Besides, I've never seen him so happy."

Except the odd appearance "here and there" starts to become a consistent thing. And it reaches an apex when Bruce diverts an emergency call from the Titans and makes an appearance in Nightwing's stead and hangs out with them afterwards (they are a little put off by the total 180 in Batman's personality but don't tell him to leave).

I think Dick stages intervention one telling Bruce he has to go back to Gotham and stop being Nightwing because Dick is Nightwing and Bruce is Batman.

"Maybe I don't want to be Batman?"

And the issue ends with Batman renouncing Batman. Saying that if Dick thinks there needs to be a Batman, he should take up the mantle. It wouldn't be the first time. Which leaves Dick speechless.

The next issue picks up in Gotham with Damian fighting crime, getting ganged up on, when Batman descends and helps him out. Except this Batman is Dick.

They debrief and we also get an update on what's been going on with Gotham in the weeks, perhaps months, of Bruce being in Bludhaven and how the rest of the Batfamily are picking up the slack in his absence. We also see Dick picking the Batfamily's brains about what to do about Bruce, if anything should be done about Bruce.

It takes a conversation with licensed medical professional Harley Quinn to give Dick insight into what's going on with Bruce ("trying to feel young again") and how to shock him out of it ("Bats is a stubborn guy. Even if all of you kids gathered around and said how this was affecting you, he'd say that you weren't seeing the bigger picture or whatever other excuse he can think of. What you need to do is goad him into giving up Nightwing and going back to being Batman.")

So Dick corners Bruce one day in Bludhaven and presents a challenge. Rooftop race across the city. First one to finish is Nightwing. The loser is Batman. Bruce, drunk off playing Nightwing, cocky, agrees.

Cue the night of the race Dick and Bruce, both dressed as Nightwing, stand on the rooftop with Barbara between them. She drops the flag and they're off.

It starts with Bruce in the lead, it's been a while since Dick has run these rooftops, but as the race progresses Dick slowly takes the lead as Bruce's stamina wanes.

It also doesn't help that Dick has been chatting the entire time. First nonsensically which Bruce tries to keep up with as well, but as it goes on it's deliberate strikes at the reasons why Bruce is clinging to Nightwing and, in his exhaustion, in his still existing in the 'Nightwing' persona, Bruce actually engages in the dialogue Dick creates between them and the rapport is strong.

Dick gets Bruce to admit how Dick is the kind of person he wants to be and that he thought it was Batman holding him back, and if he dropped Batman he could be the kind of person worthy of having the family he does now.

Dick tells him that it's because of who Bruce was that Dick is the man he is now, and that Bruce has the potential to be like Dick in those regards even while being Batman.

Then Dick brings up Alfred, at the exact moment they reach the statue of Alfred in Bludhaven. A statue Bruce has been avoiding since he arrived. A statue which Dick had been leading Bruce to in the guise of their 'race'. Dick has Bruce confront Alfred and what Alfred wanted for Bruce and how it's a) things he already has and b) he's never too late to change who Batman is and can be.

Bruce takes off the mask and thanks Dick for helping him out, and they hug as the race is over. Dick has won. He is Nightwing. Bruce will go back to being Batman.

However, the night before Bruce is set to return to Gotham, he and Dick are getting ready to patrol Bludhaven together one last time, as Batman and Nightwing, when suddenly another Nightwing appears. And another. And another.

The entire Batfamily drops in wearing their own Nightwing costumes. "What?" Damian says, "we heard that all we need to do to become Nightwing is win a race. Who wouldn't jump at the chance for something that easy." And the story ends with Nightwing looking to Bruce, saying "Fine. One more time." Cut to a full page panel of Dick Grayson leading a throng of Nightwings across the Bludhaven skies.

The Midlife Crisis event is over.

[blueparadis]

MERCY ꕀ HIGURUMA HIROMI.

+. CWs —» f!reader, sub-dom portrayal,mention of bdsm relationship,age gap, f! & m!oral,angst undertones. 1k word count.

+. SUMMARY —» A little quickie before lunch wouldn’t ruin your appetite or would it ?

+. NOTES —» don't mind me realizing one fine morning that he got such a pu$$y eating nose\\ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED \\ back to blog navigation. tags — @6-022-10-23 @orchid3a

At first he said he would like to return the favor but truth to be told it is now embarrassing, to some extent it is even tormenting; to be seated like this, legs folded and knees apart from each other as your hands rush on your barely clad body like dashing waves on shore. Your wet cunt against his panting mouth. It feels like he is snatching your soul out of your body whenever his mouth covers your cunt to suck off your cunt making your teeth voluntarily violate your puffy lips that has still the aftermath of the blow job you just gave to him a while ago being under his desk. Mr. Higuruma Hiromi is exceptionally kind today. Isn't he such a gentleman for doing this?

Yes. He is but that is just for today. He does not really show this kind of mercy. Either he makes you read the papers while making you sit on his lap and of course without your panties on. One pause or one stammer as you read he stops playing with you and dare you turn your head to look him in the eye, lest this wealthy criminal lawyer knows more than thousands ways to punish you than the Gods you pray to. Sometimes Hiromi even asks you to try some new outfits and just spend the day working, actually working. He likes this, the carefully crafted session where he is your dom, you are his sub and nothing else matters. Perhaps just one fact that how he is fully aware of your emotions towards him yet refuses to acknowledge it; it does not matter that you harbor feelings for him or the fact that whatever he is doing is a great specimen of unethical work, to some extent sabotaging the professional relationship between the two of you. It is almost like fetching a bucket of freshwater in the dawn from a pond when all the dirt has settled to the bosom after such a long lonely night.

And now, he is just holding your hips while his tongue is at work, lapping up on your bare cunt, slurping your juices as if he is quenching his thirst for ichor. His deft finger squeezes your cheeks every time you glide against his mouth, the tip of his nose grazing the apex of your vagina.

“mmm-mnhhh” he hums sternly and you can feel it in your gut that he is not getting the full taste of you. Why are you moving so much? You glance at him in the eye as your knees come in contact with the skin of the couch. Hiromi closes his eyes after his lips stretch to a beautiful crescent full of pride; and once his eyes are closed his mouth and tongue get more devoted in distilling your climax from your body. Your back arch, hands roam all over your igniting skin and then you push forward clamping around the hand rest of the couch as his tongue does one final full lap against your lips before sucking on your bud blacking your eyes for a second and then, it stills.

The climax fades and you back away giving him space to sit but your back touches his folded legs and when you look up to him, there is no ounce of further longing, rather a famished look. Now, that’s rare.

Clearing your throat, you say, “I’m sorry Sir.” because you dare not stare too long in those eyes unless. . .

“It’s okay.” Hiromi quips. “You can look at me. You have earned it.” but you still do not. What if it's one of his tricks? Or a test? Or maybe he is just teasing you.

Your eyelids flap like the wings of a drowning bird as his arm slowly approaches you, to chin your face up, his face inclining towards yours, lips thread apart whispering, “It's okay. You can kiss me now.”

You still hesitate ; your lips do not yet all it does it to part. You can smell yourself on him. His wet lips and tip of the nose glistening against the light. “I would like you to kiss me now.”

You lean to kiss him; his hand firmly rests on your bare chest stopping you, his knuckles are still flushed. You gulp and murmur, “Thank you, Sir.” Ahhhh! Those eyes. Those beautiful galactic eyes that once looked up to him with so much respect are now filled with tears. He rubs his thumb over your cheeks. It is as dry as a desert. It is fascinating how you do not let those tears fall from your eyes. Never.

“ please, i would like you to kiss me, y/n.” he murmurs almost like a prayer and then kisses your cheeks before you kiss him back. Your hands are still hesitant to touch him, his collar to deepen the kiss but when you feel him pulling away your fingers take root along his neck grazing back to his undercut. His sudden touch on your breasts remind you how your top still clustered around your waist. You welp; you moan as the kiss continues so does his hand kneading your boobs but it does not stop there. He pinches your nipple, harder than before, makes you flinch and breaks the kiss only to ask, “Do I have any meeting scheduled within the next 30 mins?”

He sounds desperate. He has never been someone to return the favor instantly. Why now? Not to mention, he rarely forgets meetings appointments. He does not really need a secretary for that. You are here as his apprentice that he picked because you shined like a pink pearl in the bed of empty oysters.

“Yes.” you lie. “Would you like to reschedule it?” You quip quickly before the guilt starts to thicken and mixes with shame.

“No.” Hiromi zips up your top. His fingers linger under your chin for a moment before he says, “you know,” the tip of his thumb grazes your lower lip stretching it downwards. “I can always detect a lie no matter how much I don't want to, no matter how much the truth hurts to know than to believe in a lie.”

You stutter as you try to apologize. “I just—he immediately keeps his index finger over your lips but does not touch you.

“confused with timings of other meetings?” he finishes your line of thought. Leaning forward he whispered into your ears, “I wanna let this one slide.” Retreating he meets your eyes, hands resting on the couch, him leaning away from you. “I don't wanna fight ‘this’ — he swings his index finger between you and him as he finishes, “ anymore.”

Your eyebrows jump. Fear, surprise and joy rush inside your heart all at once. There is a few moments of silence before he exclaims in his stern ordering voice, that he generally uses in court sessions. “Get ready. We're going out for lunch.”

You get up and walk away to the restroom while fixing your skirt. ‘don’t wanna fight this anymore’ What a joke! There is nothing to fight. Mercy has never been so brutal before.

[pillowbo]

Wrestling me to my sheets, you are about to win our playfighting, but I play dirty. My fingers stroke your sides, and you laugh, losing your balance and falling onto your back for me to pin you by one wrist.

You reach up and feel my nipple through my binder. I bow forward, melting into your touch, but still keeping my grip around your other wrist.

Our bare thighs caress when I straddle you, and I've won. I move my hips and we barely brush at the apex of our legs. You pretend to strain against my grasp, but by the look on your face, you like this turn of events.

With one swift motion, I grab your other wrist and find the cuffs on the nightstand. The metal glints with a warm hue cast from the tealights in a row.

They clamp cold around your wrists and you are secured to the headboard at my complete mercy. You're so sweet like this for me I can't help myself; I cup your jaw and kiss you so tenderly, lowering myself over you and pressing our bodies together as we make out.

Fuck. The feel of your bulge pressed against my cunt is threatening to make me lose my composure and just rip your panties off now. Soft whimpers draw from my mouth as I rut into you, the friction against my briefs intoxicating.

I stop myself and heave, shockingly already at the edge so fast. I look at you, your lashes sweeping over eyes that show such vulnerability. My hands roam down hungrily to your hips, and they raise off of the bed in response.

I raise slightly with a smug grin.

Silly girl, with a tent in your striped panties that bring forth the image of a big top. Think I'm going to pull them off and relieve the pressure? No, we're nowhere near that.

You squirm when I kiss down your neck. I look up at you and you're biting your lip, stifling your whines, holding back from me. We're not having that.

I find the place that I know is tender and chuckle against the warm divot when I get an enthusiastic response. My kisses are hot and wet right there, eliciting those sweet whines and moans that send flames through my veins.

I lift up suddenly and push down on your chest when you protest.

Your whimpering for more ceases when I roll my binder over top of me, freeing my nipples that are so hard they can no longer stand to be restrained.

A noise catches in the back of your throat as you are now throbbing against my cunt. We're panting, my head dizzy, but I once again resist the urge to tear the rest of our clothes off and fuck you.

You begin to beg for it and it's so delicious it fuels me forward, wanting more to prolong your torment than I am focused on chasing my own release.

Making us both wait for it, just swirling in that pool of arousal, is just as good if not better than the sex itself. Don't you agree? I know you do, it's why you let me do this with you, let me tease you until you're crying with need.

I lower myself back to you and kiss your shoulder then down, taking in your scent. You're rutting up toward my mouth when I kiss down your stomach, twisting fitfully in the sheets.

You are openly begging for me to go down faster.

It's torture fuck it is, I want you but I continue my trail down devastatingly slow.

This is so much harder for me than it is for you, I tell you.

Your skin glistens with the want to be touched all over and I can't help myself, I lick at the place where your panties press into your thigh. You jump at the wetness and warmth.

All at once I am on your clothed, rock-hard dick with my tongue, flat licks up the front of your panties from the base to the tip, and you are wheezing.

It twitches beneath the fabric as I kiss it on the underside of your tip, and then I slow to a stop when it pulses under my lips.

I grab your balls and squeeze them, telling you to breathe.

You beg through shallow breaths and I'm on your dick again, with lighter touches with my lips and tongue than before.

Your please-fuck-mes and my name mesh together as they flow unfiltered from your mouth, on tap for my delight.

Your voice fills me with so much pleasure, it just makes me want to keep you in this torment forever; I tell you this before I give your dick one more kiss and I lift back over you, pressing our bodies together.

You better not dare come, I say then, and I grind my cunt on the base of your shaft.

I repeat this whole process several more times until we are both panting frantically, flushed and slick with sweat as if I've already pounded you through several orgasms.

Finally, I have decided that we're ready. Without warning I grab your ass and lift your hips, pulling your panties down your thighs, so wet as they roll all the way down.

Your yeses blending with my name makes me laugh through my heavy breaths, even sweeter to my ears than your desperate begging.

My hands shake as I peel off my briefs, my cunt throbbing and hot. I press it down onto your shaft and grind into you, finally naked as we touch.

You cry out as you come almost immediately. I'm quick to join you, pummeling your twitching, pulsing dick that unloads onto our stomachs and screaming your name as I come hard and squirt violently on you.

I am not done.

My lovely girl, I tell you through ragged breaths, you were so good, I am going to reward you now by teaching you how to get a dick wet.

I reach for our nightstand again and pull out my strap. I stick the bulb end inside while I am still coming down from that first high and you are watching me in anticipation.

Maybe a little bit of anxiety in your eyes.

I ask you if you are okay and you say yes, and I remind you to use our word if you are not.

You say okay.

Such a good girl for me, I say.

I use your ejaculate to lube up my strap, scooping some off of your stomach and stroking up and down the base to the tip while you watch wide-eyed.

I grip your asscheeks and lift up your hips, then I scoop up more of your essence and finger your hole. You moan deep in your throat as I slowly stretch you out.

I line up my wet strap to your entrance, gasping at your high whine as I slowly enter you.

I check in once again if you're okay.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you.

You practically yell at me to fuck you.

I laugh in surprise, then groan low as I push down on your chest and I push in and out, clumsy at first. I gasp at the sensation, pulled into a rhythm as instinct takes over.

You throw your head back with a sensual moan. Fuck it. I pick up the pace, and soon I am pounding you hard, crying out into your shoulder as a second orgasm wracks my body.

I keep going through my spasms. I need you so bad. I need to touch and taste and smell you like the air that I breathe. I need to know and memorize every inch of you, my love.

I fuck your ass until ropes of your come splash on my stomach and chest. Your eyes roll back and you jump as I grab your dick and pump you for more and more.

You say it's too much, you're so sensitive, but you love being pushed past the point where the pleasure becomes torment. It's why you let me win, why you let me cuff you, why you haven't said our word as I pound in and out of you until I come shaking and yelling.

I can't get enough! I tell you as I bring us both to white hot pleasure again and again and again.

The candles slowly burn down and the room goes dark with puffs of smoke, burning us both down with eternal desire.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

[lunarw0rks]

i forgot what i wrote in the ask that got eaten tbh but anyways more valeria thoughts because i need her

OH WAIT I REMEMBER

thoughts about valeria coming home from a long day and using you to destress but the day also wasn’t easy on you and one of her degrading comments goes a little too far, hits a little too close to home.

her being the absolute master of reading body language, catches onto the slight shift in your demeanor before you can even safe word/signal out and everything comes to a complete stop.

and like the switch between the domme/intimidating persona and the one where she genuinely cares about you is night and day. before you know it, she’s hovering over you, cupping your face in her hands and scanning you worriedly.

maybe i just need to be comforted… i think being in her arms would solve 99% of my problems tbh

-🎧

(it's egregious how long it took me to respond to this and i apologize pookie.)

﹌﹌afab!reader. dialogue would be in spanish. implied, notorious purple strap, naturally.

valeria is used to tears, whimpers, even you— clawing at her even when you don't want her to stop. she's a seasoned dom by this point, and even more so when she finds that one special partner.

though she loves you more than anything, she still uses you to distress. and we all know she's got loads of stressors, so it's more often than not you're subjected to some rough play. all in good fun. you're pampered endlessly afterward. and of course, it's pleasurable for you.

but sometimes it's just too much.

like any other hard session, you're limp below her at this point. so many rounds that you've lost count, and you can't feel your limbs. only the nerves ablaze at the apex of your thighs. the sting of her strap abusing your cunt repeatedly, past the point of pleasure. it's only seconds before you register the discomfort— and even less before valeria slows to a stop.

"shit." she curses, "i'm sorry, amor. was i too much?" kisses along your wet cheeks to pry you from your dazed state, until you give her a nod, a look, anything. it'd be dumb of her to expect you to get words out right now, and she's able to read you like a book.

even quicker, she reaches for a towel (fresh, folded, and laid out beforehand) and smooths it along your sweaty skin, her hooded eyes trained on you through it all. wipes you clean and cares extra for any bruises or marks.

absolutely no sessions for at least a while after. insists on having the chef make you something filling and made with love, all while she's getting you in some flexible clothes and clearing her calendar for the next day.

[targaryen-dynasty]

Hello!!! Not sure if I’m doing this right, so please direct me if needed ❤️

I would absolutely love modern Aemond with GIF #9 🥵

Kinks: consensual-non-consent, and overstimulation 😋

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 6 -> GIF.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; NON/DUB CON, CONSENSUAL NON-CON, p in v, creampie, chase play, overstimulation, somewhat dark Aemond, female Reader

WORDS: 2 K (I don't know what came over me)

NOTES: Gods, idk why but this was a challenge! Thank you so much hehe! 🫂 Hope you like it!

With the whole Targtower side of the family in Dragonstone to celebrate the birth of Rhaenyra‘s sixth child and first daughter, Visenya, the townhouse was eerily quiet. A few small table lamps and candles granted just some sense of light, yet it was barely bright enough for your eyes to adjust to it. 

Under the premise of having to do something for college – you knew it couldn’t stray any further from the truth – Aemond had been allowed to stay behind, occupying the large house all by himself. 

And you two had plenty of ideas to use the time. 

Your heartbeat had been pounding in your ears, thrumming against the confines of your ribcage, and you had been more than certain he could hear it from your hiding spot under his older brother’s bed. 

His footsteps had been lithe, almost quiet, safe for the occasional squeaking of wood beneath his feet, stalking towards you like a hunter trying to herd its prey. The giggles that slipped past your lips had left them out of sheer excitement or nervousness, you couldn’t quite tell, but once you had spotted the silhouette of his feet standing in the threshold, you became dead silent. 

“Where are you, mh?” his deep voice had rasped out suddenly, somehow still catching you by surprise despite knowing he was there. Every breath had caught in your throat, and it had been incredibly difficult for you to keep them shallow enough for him not to notice. 

Aemond had prowled around the bed, slowly, carefully, and all you could do was rely on your hearing, since Aegon’s room had been too dark to see anything. 

You had heard him stopping, taking in a deep breath. “Maybe I’ll have to start without you then.” His words had tempted you to leave your hiding place, yet you had remembered what you and him had discussed beforehand. 

It had seemed as if his footsteps disappeared, getting lighter, and even his presence hadn’t felt so suffocating anymore. 

But boy had you been wrong. 

A tight grip had seized your ankles, and without a warning, you had been dragged from under the bed, the squeal you released more tinged with fear than amusement. “Got you,” he had rasped, and the smug smirk on his lips perhaps had not been visible, but perfectly audible. 

While you had been prepared for him to drag you back to his room, you were utterly confused when he had thrown you on the king size bed you not-so-long-before were hiding under. 

“Aem–” you tried to reason, but were quickly silenced when his hands yanked down your leggings in one, swift tug. Out of instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt, but Aemond did not seem to mind, his large hands fisting your tank top before they tore the flimsy fabric apart. 

In a matter of seconds, Aemond had flipped you onto your belly and proceeded to straddle your thighs, pressing his full weight down on top of you to pin you to the mattress. It made your body unable to move, tears brimming in your waterline already. 

“Shush now, bunny,” he murmured, not so gently massaging your shoulders. Something cold touched your skin where his hands were, but you couldn’t make out what it was. “Found you, and now I’m claiming my prize.”

There was not much left of the usual smoothness in his voice, a rougher edge now more than prominent despite him murmuring and drawling the words. The feigned softness sent a shiver down your spine that settled at the apex between your legs. 

“I was so close to doing this without you, to just fuck my hand to the thoughts of your sweet cunt, but your cute, little giggles, fuck,” his words were interrupted by a heavy groan. “I just have to have you, and you will let me, right?”

His hands on your shoulders were not at all as comfortable as the times he had massaged you on one of your movie nights – but comfortable and soft wasn’t what you wanted anyways. Not tonight. 

You tried to squirm away from his grasp, which earned you a disappointed scoff from him. 

And that was when the cold thing in his hands came to use. 

“Really want me to tie you up, sweet thing, mh? So desperate?” 

His weight on top of you shifted forwards, and soon enough both your wrists were tied to the edges of the headboard, the cold satin tie not doing much to cool your hot and flushed skin. 

With your heartbeat still pounding in your ears, you barely heard him opening the zipper of his jeans, pushing them down enough to free his rock hard cock. As he dragged the tip through your drenched folds, you bit your lip while Aemond released a relieved groan. 

“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” he asked, serving a slap to your ass that had you squirming again. “Beg for me to make you feel good, bunny.”

“P-Please,” you sobbed, burying your face in the pillow beneath you. 

He seemed desperate, considering that was all the begging it took to get him going.

He thrusted his cock into the crevice of your ass once, before one hand groped your hip roughly enough to raise it and angle it to his liking. As he forced himself into your tight core, your hands balled into fists, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stifle a moan. But to no avail. 

With your walls practically choking his throbbing cock, you and Aemond moaned in unison, whereas yours turned into a whine as he immediately set up a pace that knocked the air straight out of your lungs. 

It perhaps was the adrenaline and the animalistic manner in which he claimed you, but not long after that, you toppled over your edge. The force of your orgasm left you in a dazed state that robbed you of any coherent thoughts, your body becoming limp. At first, the overstimulation was not too bad – until you noticed that Aemond’s release didn’t follow immediately after yours. 

“Feels good, huh?” he groaned, making his intentions clear. The limpness disappeared, tension taking over your body. You tugged on the ties to escape the aching between your legs in vain. 

“N-No,” you whined, pathetic tears running down your flushed cheeks while the rest of your body betrayed you. Your walls fluttered and trembled around him, and the overstimulation subsided enough for pleasure to take over again. The urge to pee became prominent in your mind, and you knew that, even if you could trust the urge, he’d gladly let you pee the bed if you wouldn’t resort to saying the safe word. 

Each time his throbbing length slid into your cunt, embraced by your tight walls, you grew more and more addicted to the building pressure inside of your body. 

“Give me another,” he groaned, “I want it.” For a split second, you weren't sure if it was Aemond or Aegon pounding into you from behind, since he certainly sounded like his older brother – a spoiled man-child that always got what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

You whimpered and whined, hands clawing the cold satin to keep yourself grounded. “N-No,” you panted, “t-too much… too full.” 

And while you firmly believed that would be enough to have him stop, even though you didn’t really want him to, Aemond merely snaked a hand under your body to toy with your clit, matching the merciless snaps of his hips. 

It was a mix of heat, pain and pleasure surging through your veins like wildfire, turning your vision blurry, and forcing your body to the point it didn’t cooperate anymore. His touch was overwhelming, causing you to gasp into the pillow. 

Your back arched, and your blurry vision turned hot-white from how intense that second orgasm was. Even though you were in a haze, torn between pleasure and pain, you noticed the falter in his thrusts and the strained groan he released as he tried to fuck you through your second orgasm. It felt good to know it was just as torturous for him as it was for you. 

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Aemond to recover and regain his composure, whereas you were rendered a drooling mess. He slammed his hips into yours to bury himself to the hilt, the sounds of skin slapping skin even louder than your whines and his grunts. 

Your mouth was agape, the pillow damp with your saliva and tears. Your body was at the point where even the tension in your arms had gone out, resting limply between the struts of the headboard, dragging forward and back with each movement of him.  

You thought your body had enough time to get used to his pace and size, but each thrust brought you closer to the certainty that your body might split apart. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when Aemond’s hips stilled, pubic bone pressed against your ass. With his breath heavy and erratic, it was clear that he had reached his climax, throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. “Fuck,” he cursed, voice tinged with a hint of relief. While you were expecting this to be the safe call for it all to end, he caught you by surprise when he easily picked up his previous pace again. 

The way his grunts and groans sounded more strained than normal made clear that he was fighting the same battle against the overstimulation than you did, but it seemed he just wasn’t satisfied with you coming only twice for him.

“One more for me, bunny,” he rasped. “That’s all I need.”

His seed oozed out of your assaulted hole with his ministrations at this point, coating his cock and dripping down his balls, acting as added lubrication. The sounds were lewd, squelching and slapping filling the room each time he hit the spot inside of you that made stars dance along your vision.  

With the heat building inside of you for a third time – you weren’t even sure if it had left after the second orgasm – the awful, aching pleasure crawling to the surface, you wanted to scream, but nothing more than another whimper left your lips. 

Aemond fucked you through your third high, the erratic snaps of his hips elongating the pleasure. His hand had long left your clit, only to be replaced by his heavy balls, and each time they slapped against your sensitive clit, your body jerked from the force of the aftershocks and overstimulation. 

“That’s it,” he cooed, his thrusts becoming slower and softer until they eventually seized. “So fucking hot.” Both hands groped your ass, squeezing and teasing your flesh while he granted you a few moments to come down, to catch your breath. 

If you had to stand up just now, you were certain you’d fall face first, your legs completely limp and not able to cooperate. 

Aemond leaned forwards to release your wrists. His cock was still nestled snugly inside of your twitching walls, a white rim surrounding the base, and the aftershocks and overstimulation took a lot longer to subside. His hands wrapped around both your wrists to gently massage and rub the skin, soothing the discomfort the ties probably had brought you. 

Your face was buried in the pillows, and you found it hard to focus on anything he said. “You did so, so well for me,” he praised, slowly pulling out. With you still lying on your stomach and the townhouse still being poorly lit, you didn’t see him flinching at the friction he caused himself. 

Aemond returned seconds later with a cloth to clean you up, before he scooped you up in his arms. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent. “I’ll get a bath ready for you,” he said, slowly walking towards the bath. “You get to soak while I clean up your mess. And after that, I’ll join you, how does that sound?”

You lazily blinked up at him and nodded, a tired smile on your lips. 

While you should be touched by his gentle side, by how well he was providing you with aftercare, all you could focus on was the next time his family would be out of town. 

[pricegouge]

Well, exactly one person interacted but that's all I need. Behold:

141 and piss play 🤭

I already talked about Ghost and Soap here but let's expand on that.

We all know Soap is desperate for you in any way he can get you, but his heart would probably just completely stop if you asked him to pee on you. You may as well have asked him to tattoo his bite mark on your ass as far as he's concerned. He's not one for setting up scenes, exactly, but when you get home from work one night to find about eleven empty jugs of water and a empty fucking kiddie pool in the living room, it finally dawns on you that you might've fucked up.

Simon's kink is incidental until it isn't - when he starts to associate it with you cumming hard enough to make you see god. He's always on the hunt for it now, pressing on your belly until he can feel himself moving within you, until he's shuddering right along with you when you get overwhelmed, releasing hot and wet across his belly and thighs.

You were hesitant to tell Gaz about your interest in the kink until he confidently proclaimed one night that he was a try anything twice kinda guy. You'd both been drinking, and you're at that floaty stage where just saying to hell with it and asking him how he'd feel about fucking you til you pissed yourself, or perhaps pissing on you. You'd been expecting some negotiation, some hesitancy. You got none. Kyle was too drunk to fuck you properly, but all the alcohol in his system made him need to pee like a racehorse every three minutes and he was eager to please so he pulled your to the shower right then and there, putting you on your knees and making you close your mouth and eyes. No need to rush into it, he figured, not when he'd already told you he'd be willing to try it at least once more. It's hotter than you'd expected - hotter even than the water from the shower head. It stinks, obviously, but the thrill of it, the degradation, has you begging him to try it again. "No problem, luv," he says, stroking his cock almost absently, whiskey dick preventing him from even properly fucking you after debasing you like this. "Nearly finished a bottle of tequila all on my own tonight. Just give me a minute and I can mark those pretty tits."

It's easy enough to know John's a controlling man, another thing entirely to accept this side of him. He's clever about it though; has clearly dealt with pushback from previous partners. You don't even realize what he's doing when he starts mainlining you water each night ("You look dehydrated, love. Tough day at work?), the tricky bastard. And you find it odd when he starts asking if you need to stop and use the restroom whenever the two of you are out and about but it never occurs to you what he's really doing, because how could it? What normal person tries to control their partner's bladder? But that's exactly what he's doing. Took you long enough to figure it out, but by the time he's telling you to wait until the next commercial break, you've run out of convenient excuses for him. "Have to pee now, John," you gripe, but he just smirks, caught - not at all ashamed. He tries explaining it away as a desire to watch you squirm, but you know him better than that. If John Price wanted to make you squirm he would simply do it. No need for the delayed satisfaction of plying you full of liquids first. Still, you don't realize exactly what he's after until he nearly beats you over the head with it - stops your squirming with a firm palm pressed against the apex of your thighs at the next commercial break, exactly when he'd said. He's mean about it, pressing into your full bladder just as much as he coos at you about it all being okay, that he'll reward you real prettily if you just do as he says.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Javier's Peña's bulge

Bulge-by-pants analysis: the greatest hits

There's just too much of this bulge to be contained to one post, so there will be one more to come. With so much content to play with, I thought long and hard on how to approach this and landed here. Cos we all appreciate a tight trouser, don't we?

Dark grey jeans: This is one of his best pairs and he wears it several times in season 2. But this scene with the holy trinity, his bulge really pops - even compared to the stiff competition from his partners.

Grey dress pants: Even lurking, half-blurred in the background, the bulge makes its presence felt. These pants are cut so well, it's giving me Dave York bulge vibes.

Khaki dress pants: This is a looser suit that doesn't quite cradle his bulge the way the grey pants do. But with his ridiculous manspreading (is it really necessary, Javier?), you can clearly see the weight of his bulge pressing against the seams.

Mid-blue straight-leg jeans: Look, I know I'm not supposed to but this is the outfit Javi wears for the insanely hot scene where he kicks down Maritza's door and throws a chair. Violence is bad guys, but these jeans are downright sinful - the way they gently cup that gorgeous bulge, and look at that side bulge action - I am unwell. Thank you Maddie @imaswellkid for ID'ing this scene for me ❤️

True blue looser cut jeans: I love this look. I'm distraught that we don't see that jacket again (I don't think we do anyway), and those jeans? They're looser than what he usually wears by some distance but even so the bulge still takes glorious centre stage.

Dark wash jeans: I believe we see these jeans quite a lot. It's more subtle than the lighter washes, but you can't miss that hulking bulge between those legs.

Dark brown pants: These pants don't look like denim to me, maybe a corduroy-ish material? I bookmarked this from one of @the-ginger-hedge-witch posts, so full credit to Ren for bringing this ridiculous bulge to my attention. I mean, it's not even an indescript bulge. You can see the actual business. That's why they had to shoot from a safe distance, any closer to the camera and we'd all simultaneously combust.

True blue boot cut jeans: Oh these fucking pants. Sent to me by @iamskyereads. This one is personal because I have a pair in the exact shade of blue. But look at this - look at the camera work, how it zeroes in on that ridiculous bulge, framed so perfectly by those strong thighs and how it's straining against the zipper.

The ultimate grey jeans: Submitted by @imaswellkid. The sheer amount of bulge in this episode is obscene. But none as obscene as this scene. A still screenshot is needed to fully appreciate the heft of the bulge sitting at the apex of those thighs. How did the camera person not pass out while filming this will forever be a mystery.

Seriously, look at it™.

I don't know about you, but I'm thirsty now and need a cold drink to calm down. More bulge to come.

Related: Frankie’s Bulge

[anika-ann]

Hiiii 💕

Made-up fic title: “A different kind of high”

(Yes it’s from a song lol have fun 😂)

Hiiii honey 💕 Oh I had FUN with this, okay. I got carried away so much I don't even want to know the original context of the lyrics 🥹 (or maybe I do, for the fun of it.

ANYWAY. Thank you for sending and thus participating in this game. You too, get a drabble instead of plot. 900 words, allusions to smut and Alpha Ransom 👀 🙈

A Different Kind of High

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, first attempt at a/b/o, implied smut, chase kink, praise kink, hints of soft!dark if you squint very very hard, language

Your heart hammered madly in your chest, its echoes thundering in your temples. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly with every breath you tried to catch, your muscles burning from exertion.

You stood pressed with your back to one of the walls of the study right by the doorframe, door having been swung open, offering you a chance to slip through and hide without making a sound drawing his attention.

His voice carried through the house, making you cover your mouth quickly – suddenly even your breathing sounded too loud, loud enough that it could alert him of your presence here.

You did not want that.

“Come out, come out, little kitten, we’re done playing…” Ransom bargained teasingly, trying to coax you out of your hiding place. “You’re a smart little thing, Omega, but I’m your Alpha… I’ll always find you.”

You swallowed the whimper threatening to spill from deep within your throat at his praise, cursing him to his damnest and yet ready to fall on your knees for him at once, fresh gush of arousal dampening your core. He knew what he was doing. The low dangerous but playful tone sent shivers down your spine, no doubt heightening your scent.

You were a smart little thing; you had rubbed your wrist along your mating gland, sending your scent dispersing in the air, all over the house; you had rubbed the sensitive aromatic skin of your wrist all over pieces of furniture around the mansion, doing your best to overwhelm and confuse your Alpha’s senses, making it impossible for him to tell what was but a trace of your scent and where you actually were… and apparently, you succeeded.

You must have, because he had never chased you for so long. He would have normally found you in third if not fourth of the time. You were getting better; and the longer the chase, the more adrenalin flooded your veins, excitement and anticipation stirring deep within your belly.

The more riled up Ransom got, the more pleasant the outcome was – and that was the goal.

The aftermath of the chase could be oh so pleasant…

The images flooding your mind sent fresh whiff of your arousal to the air, causing you to rub your legs together as silently as possible while still getting the much-needed friction.

Then, you froze.

You heard his footsteps, quick and almost soundless, like one of an apex predator; the predator he was. The alpha.

You could run; and you would. You just needed to time it perfectly to keep up the game.

“Oh Omega… you smell so fuckin’ sweet. I can’t wait to have you begging me to stop eating you out and just finally give you a good ol’ fuckin’…” he drawled out a promise, making you bite your tongue this time.

Not yet, not yet, not—

Now!

You sprang from the wall, using your hands to push away and gain more momentum – but it was a second too late.    

Ransom’s large body pinned you against the opposite wall in a blink of an eye, his ful weight and sheer strength preventing you from moving your feet a single inch.

He was firm and hot and hard against your front, long fingers wrapped around your wrists like handcuffs nailed to the wall next to your head, his nose already running up your throat, causing you to instinctively tip your head back to make space for him, rewarded by a broad lick up your mating glad. Your knees buckled under the onslaught of arousal and bliss combined, your Alpha’s body simply pressing into yours further with a dark delighted chuckle.

“Oh my bratty little Omega… when do you even learn?” he mused, teasing your bond with his teeth, your responding gasp and the damn-near spasm to your core making you jerk your hips only encouraging him to double on his ministrations, your heart a second from beating its way out of your chest. Craving him, craving to feel more, you vainly tried to move your hands so you could touch him, explore his brilliant physique, map every crevice of his taunt muscles with your palms, to breathe in all the nuances of his magnificent scent. You needed to know if he needed you just as much as you needed him, if your little escapade aroused him and drove him at least half as mad.

But he wouldn’t budge, nailing you to the wall unrelentingly.

“Alpha-“

“Oh Omega… you fought good… but when I’m done with you, you’ll never want to run away from me ever again.”

With that playful growl, his lips slanted over yours in a claiming kiss, all remnants of rational thoughts evaporating from your head. Your body slipped fully into an omega mode – to be good, so good for your Alpha, so he would be so good to you in return.

But your last thought was one of rebellion and submission at once; despite what he was saying, you knew you’d run again. You’d have him chase you, because the rush it gave you, the most exquisite kind of high you had never thought you’d experience, was too addictive.

And the outcome?

So. Damn. Worth. It.

Even if it cost you a few pieces of underwear and other pieces of clothing Ransom tore apart to ruin you, even if it left you a soaking panting mess, indeed begging your Alpha for things you had never thought you might imagine, let alone speak – whine, really – out loud.

As Ransom’s long fingers slipped into your panties and ripped the fabric clear, you made more than just peace with your fate and vowed to meet this kind of fate halfway next time as well.

-🥹😇🥹-

My hand... slipped. Oops. This was not the introduction to the a/o/b verse I imagined. Ah, well.

Thank you for reading - and I hope you enjoyed 🥹

Thank you @chase-your-dreams-away for playing 💕