#cw usft

[eraserisms]

Shota + His Agency / Charity

As I posted about Shota having a grey area as far as where his morals lie and it's heavily due to an experience he endured early in his hero career [1]. I also posted vaguely about how Shota protects sex workers[2]. Since these both have been posted I finally can elaborate more on the latter.

What Shota went through as far as taking down that drug operating ring is something that unquestionably shook him. Recognizing that there is sometimes there is a fine line between right and wrong, Shota knew which direction that he wanted his agency to go in. While Shota works his missions solo, his agency works more like a non-profit and a lot of it is donation based. Shota's mother comes from old money and is a frequent donor. Shota actually pours a lot of his own money into it as well. Shota gets to write off his donations on taxes, but Shota just takes that money and throws it back into the organization.

His agency focuses primarily on helping people and providing resources for the public. A few of the things that the organization does is; getting people clean, assisting the houseless into homes, funding education, protecting sex workers & getting them out of bad situations. And there is one more service his agency provides. The thing that haunts him. The incident that pushes his more unpleasant thoughts to the front of his mind. The something that he wished he had done all those years ago; providing witness protection programs and help those involved in gang activity.

His agency is built to actually fix the problems that Shota sees around him. So, when Shota says "It's a hero's job to combat unfairness in the world." He means it. He lives by it. Even if it means helping someone who has done wrong, because life was probably rigged and unfair for that person in the first place.

[slaughterlocked]

❛  you're all mine to use, aren't you?  ❜ ( FROM HENRY HELP ME HELP / @ladyseidr )

IF HE’D HAD MUCH RATIONAL THOUGHT LEFT, HE’D HAVE HIT BACK WITH SOMETHING CLEVER. As it is, his blood is rushing south, away from his brain, so he’s left at a disadvantage, flushed and undone and arching into Henry’s unrelenting touch. “Fuck,” is all he manages at first, breath hot and heavy, clutching around the other’s neck and dragging him down so that their chests press against each other, possessive and impatient, “I don’t need to say it.”

Because he is, of course. Especially like this, but at all times. He’s Henry’s in any way that matters, whether it’s with the damn diner or like this, pressed flush against each other. William’s pupils are blown wide, dizzy with the heavy weight of Henry’s fingers inside him. Already a wreck and they’ve only been at it for minutes. He works himself on Henry’s fingers, biting down on his bottom lip harsh enough to leave it red and blushing. He’ll give praise where it’s due, but he’ll be damned if he voices it aloud before Henry has properly started fucking him. “You can go quicker, you know,” he adds, half a groan, hand curling pointedly into the back of Henry’s hair, “fuck, get a move on.”

[mythboundmuses-archive]

@nightmarecountry sent:

Hob gets kissed because he can't be killed; because the Corinthian has tried before; because he's expressly forbidden from taking Hob's eyes and what ELSE is he supposed to do, if not kiss the petty bastard about it all. He kisses him with tongue and a lot (a lot) of teeth, sharp and unforgiving, like he doesn't know how to kiss gently and wouldn't want to even if he did. If he's doing this partly out of a weird, twisted sense of jealousy, that's his own business. [ me gesturing helplessly. don't ask me why.]

Hob allows it, because he likes it. Likes the way the nightmare bites at his lips like he wants to tear them off and devour them whole. In turn, he digs his nails into the Corinthian's neck where he grabs him hard enough to cut off his air - if he even needs to breathe. Dream logic, Hob thinks, and holds him just a little tighter. "I had these lips wrapped around your master's cock last night," he says, offhandedly, like it's only just occured to him. Like he was debating with himself whether it was worth mentioning, if he could even be bothered. "He let me kiss him all over, too. And I did. I worshipped him like you never could. So you should show me some fucking respect."

[liightbringr]

a gentle reminder that a heavy tipping point in Eva’s maturity stems from having her shit rocked by Zenos in Rhalgar’s Reach. where her lance was broken and therefore his blade caught at her pelvic bone in a now diagonal scar. an inch or so from her navel straight down to her hip at an angle where he nearly gutted her.

the way she could’ve perished.

[runelocked]

“ stop that — we’re in public. ” ( from henry hehe / @ladyseidr )

IN HIS MANY MANY YEARS WITH HENRY, WILLIAM HAS PERFECTED HIS WOUNDED LOOK OF INNOCENCE. He dons it now, casting large confused eyes to the other man . . . completely ignoring the fact they’ve just come out of a meeting about the prospect of building the diner and they’ve literally barely left the building and he’s brushing his hand suggestively against Henry’s thigh, impatient and unashamed. “What?” William says, false puzzlement thick in his voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

Not yet he’s not. But it’s a familiar game: he’ll start with his thighs, and then press closer, tugging the other man into a secluded spot for messy kisses or sly handjobs or flat-out sex before ten minutes has passed. He’s not shy about his infatuation for Henry (though had been cautious enough to ensure nobody had been around to see them here), and the sly gleam in his eye belies the innocence on his features.

“Anyway, you’re being unfair.” Any pretence at playing the fool is dropped instantly when he lowers his voice, turning it something hungry, wanting: “You didn’t see how you looked in that meeting. I wanted to rip the clothes off you then and there, love. You really should be thanking me for being patient.”

[muutosarchive]

“ i could be your toy. “ for mike !

🍒 @ncvabcrn . *      ―    ﴾  𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠  𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜  ﴿   :    𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒  𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘  𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

"oh yeah?" mike's brows are immediately raised at that, interest sparked in his brain the moment that it hits the air. he meanders forth, falling into the couch. crossing ankles whilst putting an arm around their shoulders.

"so that's what you want, huh?" he asked, his brows raised. "you like being someone's toy?" he leans in, his other hand landing on their thigh. they'd be the perfect toy, he must admit. if you were explorative, at least.

he leans into their ear, smirking before biting on their earlobe softly. "well, be careful what you wish for -- because i'm known to take my time, when it comes to my favorites."

[mythboundmuses-archive]

sila, prey kink, tell me I'm right

Yes. He's not even a little bit subtle about it.

[eraserisms]

Shota, a former sex addict: I really don't think we should be doing that smash or pass meme

[trapton]

[ GRIND ]:  sender  grinds  on  receivers  thigh. ( janelle )

🔧 @avemaria . meme i'm too lazy to find.

𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺. his own curved with the couch's rest that sits in the corner of his office. just out of eye-sight. he's relaxing. the expression upon his face playing almost a little too proudly excited, sprinkled with a dash of expectancy as well. complete with an uneven tilt of his thin lips, while his other hand takes control of her chin with a light touch. forcing her to come close to his face . . . noses touching, with a further lidding of his eyes. briefly shaking hair from his face.

he enjoyed playing with power like this. it was intoxicating. his back coming off the sofa to inch their bodies even closer together. his bony thigh provides refuge to her seeking, wanting body . . . happy to oblige, as he controls this entire interaction. could give more, or take away what little she had. it having proven &. displayed a desperation that exists for his affection.

his lips seek her own. silky roll of his tongue followed by another as he chuckles deeply against their lips. "my . . . i didn't realize how badly you wanted this, janelle." saccharine, beauty of accented tone pouring its filth. "so desperate you are." he muses, humming whilst he smiles into another kiss. "is it just that you want my affection?" he asks, fingers slipping away to the back of her neck. forming a loose curl around her curls.

[muutosarchive]

All you have to do is beg, and I will give you what you want. / omega hehehe

his tail flickers. a rumble produced deep within inhuman chest. raised from it's space on the floor, as cool eyes of liquid nitrogen burn through the mask. less emotion resides in the glow of stars signaling his perfect design. of course less than glamor blues. ice cold, but still with the capacity for vulnerability. built by the very hands of lucifer, omega is convinced, to serve this great purpose of belonging. of giving away every part of himself. not demeaning to place himself below the man . . . it is simply natural, despite nature's lack of facilitation. long, onyx claws rounding waist to find hand-holds as spats curl on the ground. uniform tugging seams of suddenly too-small cassock as he grows from his stealth height to that of his true form. grandiose. big teeth, gnarled horns &. scarred, black muscles as far as the eye could see. those glaring orbs akin to the night sky, even as he angrily tears off the chrome plate from over his face. ears sprung back against his skull, pointed &. with some subtle missing chunks from his many fights in the underworld.

his spaded tail comes around the short legs standing before him, while wrapping more tightly to opposite thigh. all occurring in such typical regal form reduced to tight, heightened shoulders. but not from the contemplation of begging. no . . . has far in a way torn himself apart before the man's mismatched eyes. does not fear embarrassment. a horse's snort releasing from the great beast that fans across the exposed line of the abdomen beneath his nose. hands &. knees the position to fully make-up the size between the ghoulish figure &. his handler. the pretty, poised &. chosen one. ruler of the leviathan throne. oh, but he'd loved him before that, too. when he belonged to someone else, in a sense. but he'd always found his way home.

"please, sir --" he cringes. such a human tone sounds oddly shaken, even as thighs lower &. he begins nosing around the man's stomach like he were a dejected dog. "you already know i'd do anything for you. why torture me like this?" tortured by this innate desire already, curious eyes snap with the slow draw-back of snout. "please let me serve &. be of service." he bows his head. eyes snuffed to the back of his lids. pride pouring out of his chest &. splattering on shoes. though, omega was a proud ghoul. something elegant woven into sacrifice, even when displayed so primal &. needing.

🍒 @p0pestar 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 ↪ 𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

[themarvelliteraryuniverse]

It's two in the morning, Sherlock can't sleep, and his fingers aren't accomplishing as much as he hoped they would.

He'd been explicitly banned from playing violin at odd hours, which he found dreadfully unfair seeing as he didn't even have his violin and refused to fiddle with one of the school's instruments for hours to get it to sound right. Scott had apparently read the books about him and made wild assumptions about the type of house mate Sherlock might be based on said descriptions.

Only they weren't descriptions of him, were they? But that of another mutant posing as him which has it's own existential quandary. Yet another thing to keep him up, but it's not the reason for this night's delay.

Sherlock sat at his desk, the head of recently used needle jammed into the wood as the detective idly twirled it. Since his untimely stumble to the universe he currently sat, he'd been falling back into nasty- comforting- habits. Who would scold him for it? Who did he have to disappoint? Closing his eyes, Sherlock lifted the syringe and tossed it back down again to make it stick in the desk. He couldn't think like that. He'd never get home if he did.

His addiction isn't the reason for the delay, either. He'd grown used to the ache that plagued him, homesickness, he supposed it was, but tonight it had taken a more aggressive approach. The ache permeated his entire being, and soon he found himself biting his lip as he imagined a thick cock pressed heavily against his tongue.

He missed his husband. His voice, his presence, his scent. But in that moment, he missed his cock the most. Sherlock exhaled, dropping his head into his hands. He could handle the situation himself- he tried to handle the situation himself, but he only managed to get three fingers inside of him before he realized he needs more. He needs someone else's hand, someone's cock.

It takes twelves steps to stand outside of Logan's door. Sherlock clad in just slacks and a half open button down as he raises his hand to knock but he stops. What would he say? Logan had flirted with him when he first arrived, but it didn't take long to realize Logan flirted with anyone old enough.

No, this is stupid, he decides, and turns to leave just as the door opens and Logan leans against the door, fist planted on his hip. Sherlock tries to glare again, to give him the coldest shoulder he can manage, but Logan looks good. Tank top that leaves nothing to the imagination, and pants hung low enough on his hips that Sherlock can see a trail of dark hair that he foolishly follows with his eyes before they snap up to Logan.

Logan's grinning- no. Smirking. And Sherlock feels his face flush, already predicting how their conversation would go.

"Why are you still awake?"

"Started smellin' you an hour ago. Wanted to see how far you got before you set out lookin' for help. Didn't expect you at my door, though. You're jus' full of surprises."

"You can smell me? I'm insulted."

"No, you're not. We gonna keep doin' this or you gonna admit you're here for an easy fuck."

"Not many people I know would sound so proud to be considered easy."

"I know what I want. Do you?"

Sherlock knew the more he spoke, the more likely he was to talk himself out of this. But what would he do? Try to sleep again? Because that'd gone so well the last four hours he'd tried. He couldn't exactly take another hit unless he wanted to risk over dosing. He needed relief. Logan was that relief. Sherlock hesitates, and he can see Logan inhale to begin speaking.

So Sherlock surges forward and kisses him before he can. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to struggle with making an excuse neither of them would believe. Sherlock's here for one thing, and he'll get and then be on his way.

Logan's hand around his waist is confirmation enough that Logan's just as interested in their encounter as Sherlock. He pulls him into the room, free hand shoving the door shut before both hands are on the detective, lifting him off the ground to carry him to the bed. It's second nature to wrap his legs aroung Logan's waist, one arm braced around his shoulders while the other slides a hand into waves of black.

They're almost to the bed when Sherlock grasps Logan's hair and forces their lips apart. The air between them is hot as Sherlock pulls to force Logan's chin up and bites the underside of his jaw.

"Sit," He commands. "I want to ride you."

His response is a throaty groan, but Logan obeys and sits on the edge of the bed, Sherlock set firmly in his lap. The friction is already better than what his fingers had to offer, and Sherlock is too far gone to concern himself with how improper he might look grinding against the outline of Logan's cock. They move together in just the right way, electric pops of pleasure rattling up Sherlock's spine until he needs more. There's too many clothes in the way.

With a growl of his own, Sherlock stands and steps away to get his trousers off while Logan pulls his shirt off and shifts just enough to free his dick from fabric constraints. Sherlock stares- leers like a stranded man who's just spotted a rescue boat on the horizon.

"Christ," Logan begins, and Sherlock watches as his gaze moves up and down to take in the entirety of him. "You're gor-"

"Don't speak," Sherlock's hand covers his mouth as he moves closer, keeping the hand there while the other strokes Logan's cock and holds it steady. He feels precome smear the inside of his leg as he lowers himself on Logan's waiting cock. It'd been too long since he last felt this full, since he felt his body stretch and that bone deep ache was finally satisfied.

He doesn't fully seat himself. Despite his earlier efforts, it's still a lot to take and he lifts himself up just enough so only the head of Logan's cock remains inside him. Beneath him, he can feel Logan shiver, and Sherlock's grins, the gesture laced with pure deviance. His movements remain shallow, teasing. He feels Logan's arms and legs go taut the longer he plays the game until two large hands finally grab his waist and pull him all the way down.

His breath catches, his cry caught in his throat as Logan's cock sits fully inside him now. Even with his head thrown back, he knows Logan's smirking at him, and Sherlock gathers himself enough to finish what he set out to do.

With hands press to Logan's chest as leverage, Sherlock moves with a singular purpose in mind. His pleasure. Chasing that elusive high he couldn't give himself. It's mounting, he begins to shake with the strain of maintaining his rhythm, but he doesn't stop. He buries his face in the crook of Logan's neck and rides him home.

Logan smells like home. Like sweat, and smoke, and pine. Shit. He's so close, he just- he- he needs something.

Logan's climax surprises him. But it's precisely what he needed to fall over the edge with him. His cock pulses inside of him, and just knowing ribbons of hot white seed follow every jolt sets Sherlock's nerve alight all over again.

He forget he's holding Logan's mouth until the man bites him and it's enough to jolt Sherlock out of the post climax endorphin rush. Jerking his hand back, Sherlock glares. But Logan only grins.

"Stay the night?"

"No, that won't happen." Sherlock stands, hands tight at his sides as he feels the overflow of Logan's spend run down his legs. "And this never happened."

Before Logan can make another witty remark or make Sherlock's ears burn anymore than they already did, Sherlock shoves his legs into his trousers and snatches his shirt from the floor. He leaves without looking back.

[mythboundmuses-archive]

{ weep } : does your muse tend to get emotional after sex?

for sila my beloved

It depends. He doesn't necessarily get weepy but he does get (more) clingy and I don't think he'd cope too well if he was left alone after something particularly intense. I think he gets even more soppy and loves giving/receiving affection even more than usual, and he might cry if he feels especially loved and the sex was intense. But it might go the other way and he gets really giggly. Totally depends on the mood/how things went.

But, yes, emotional.

[loyalhorror]

masque is not immune to the bisexual vampire

[trapton]

18 for henry!! ( @ladyseidr )

🔧 @ladyseidr . 🍑 USFW GIF MEME.   🍑 (GIF)

𝙲𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴 𝚃𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝚈 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝚉𝙸𝙿𝙿𝙾, strewn on the bedside with the ashtray while william pinches a smoke with one hand, and lazily strokes henry's cock with the other. "mm. . . ." william's cock is wrapped in henry's hot, slick walls. elegantly perched, fucking himself while will does minimal work. pushing his hips up just at the tail end of henry's downward stroke, so that he could reach as much of henry's insides as possible. "your cock has gotten so hard for me, henry." he muses on the tail end of a drag, slowly running his hand along the shaft.

satisfaction lives in his lidded smirk, fucking into henry while his silver eyes take to studying. "you know, this might as well by my cock." william speaks with a lungful of smoke, grunting while twin streams leak through nostrils. his crooked grin edging up his face. "just like this might as well be my hole," he pauses for a moment. - "as though anyone else gets to have you like this. gets to be inside you like this. . . . " his accent is devilishly smooth, low. deliberate.

his cigarette is ashed before it's stuck between his teeth. hips pushing up, while his free fingers explore the expanse of henry's body. his thick middle. "and this gorgeous body." he says, watching with his prick pulsing inside of the man above him while he explored. "mm, god you're perfect henry. do you know that? and it's all for me, isn't it? all mine." voice is gravel and grit. he continues to stroke, all teasing and exactly what the other likes. "i'm the only man who knows how to please you henry. you and i both know that. i might as well control your pleasure." he chuckles at henry's reactions, licking his lips while filling his lungs and removing filter from his lips. "you're mine." he says it again, leaving the smoke on the tray while continuing to touch. "perfect... my perfect little plaything. say it, henry. tell me who you belong to."

[runelocked]

❛  you didn't tell me that was a rule ... i didn't know i wasn't supposed to do that!  ❜ coughs

“ I DID, however, tell you to call me sir. ” William’s reply could almost be called bored, if not for the heated possession in his tone, the dark, glittering want in his eyes . . . The way he is bearing down, skin pressed against skin and chest pressed against back. “ You’re a smart girl. I know I don’t need to spoon feed you everything. ”

When he leans impossibly closer, this time his breath ghosts against her ear.

“ Now prove it to me. ”

[muutosarchive]

simon's cooped himself up in his room, laid himself bare on his cot, gently running his fingers across his aching pussy. it's too much to ignore - he'd left from watching his captain train others. it was the way he moved, the way he would deliver sharp orders - the poor lieutenant couldn't handle it. not when it pooled a deep seated want in his lower half. he finally slips his fingers inside of himself, wet and needy, pulling his free hand up over his lips. "ah - john -" the name passes his lips, a soft moan, reserved solely for the captain. eyes flutter closed, then open sharply at the sound of his door's lock clicking.

brows kiss forehead as eyes resemble the wideness of saucers when his attention is full directed at the entrance to his room. of course - it's the only one bold enough to enter. the one who likely just heard simon moan his name with his fingers to the knuckle up inside of himself. he can feel the heat come to his face, and he knows there's red dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears - he longs for the comfort of his mask in this moment; though he knows his naked form displayed here would definitely be more pleasurable for john to look at. he's caught - though maybe that's why he forgot to lock the door. and maybe why he made sure john had seen him leave in a hurry. not that he'll openly admit it.

IT'S NOT ALWAYS AN EASY THING, getting around duties. especially when he's actually supposed to be on shift, &. not just training or working for the sake of performance. however, credenhill was certainly more relaxed. &. luckily there was a lieutenant who was . . . a bit eager, that could get talking if you let him. a showy fella, the lad. so soap let him take over, when he saw that his lieutenant had exited the training area early. cheeky bastard. well, two could play at that game, couldn't they?

he knows exactly what to expect when he enters, however it doesn't make it any less a beautiful sight. his stubble-surrounded lips quirking up at one side as he shuts the door behind him. this time, poignantly clicking the lock before meandering towards simon. hands in his denim pockets.

there's so many things he wants to tell him. how fucking perfect he looks, for one thing. full up on his fingers, with that voice saying his name like that? well, he's liable to devour him right then &. there. but john's casual stance says it all. eyes taking in the perfect sight, &. drinking it like a good scotch.

one knee is cocked slightly, a furry brow quirking. cut in half by rugged scar. "all this fer me, aye?" he asks, his spine arching as he leans back. voice rough around the edges. "well go on, then." he gestures forth with a hand before it goes directly back in his pocket. ignoring the obvious tent of his denim jeans, while rocking back &. forth on his heels. "i came to enjoy th'show, no' interrupt ye."

🍒 @designedparadigm