#flash-sweat

[swordluck]

⚘ @flash-sweat // cont.

He was surrender incarnate, his pleas whispered benedictions against her skin.  Each word arrived wet and trembling on her breasts, the pull of his lips a tantalising tickle against sucked-pink skin.  His vulnerability, the tremor in his body beneath her, deepened her already fierce adoration.  Anri smiled down at him – darling, dark-eyed, daring – and murmured:

“Good boy.”

A hand found his face, fingers caressing his bearded jaw.  His mouth hung open, drunk with pleasure.  Leaning down, Anri kissed that slack mouth, licking over and past those parted teeth.  Laurentius responded, hazy and eager in his need, but she retreated to hover above him, the throne of his hips hers to command.

Gripping the base of his cock – quietly awed by his hardness, the swollen fullness of his balls – she guided him to her entrance and sank slowly into her seat.  The sensation was both a tease and a fulfilment, a shiver rippling through her as she enveloped him, as he filled her.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her voice all velvet and steel.  “I want to come again.”

Then she began to move – not with urgency, but with deliberate, measured rhythm.  Her hips ground against his, pressing him deeper, seeking the most tender places inside her.  Anri’s eyes never left his face – watching him watch her – as her fingers danced across her own body, tracing the soft curve of her milk-pale belly, stroking through golden curls to the delicate spot already thrumming with pleasure.  Drawing circles quick and light, her other hand moved to cup a breast, pinching the dusky peak until she gasped. 

Laurentius’ gaze was glazed with desire, his wrists straining subtly against the restraints, fingers twitching as though they longed to touch her.  Anri clenched around him, and his cock responded with a helpless twitch, each reaction a silent testament to his need.  Mercy, then, as her movements quickened, her rhythm becoming sharp and insistent.  Every impact of her hips against his sent jolts through her body, registering in the soft of her thighs, her belly, her breasts.  

“I love it when you come inside,” she confessed, her voice breathless and honey-sweet.  “I love being full of you.  I love being yours.  I love that you are mine.”

Those words seemed to unravel him.  She felt the tension in his body reach its breaking point, his control slipping as he shuddered at the edge of release. 

“I hope there’s a lot,” she continued teasingly.  “I love it when your come leaks out of me and makes a mess in my panties.”

Her body fluttered, rapid pulses signalling her own impending climax.  

“Come with me, sweetheart,” she urged, her voice a petal-soft command.

At her words, Laurentius surrendered completely.  He had held on so valiantly, so obediently, and now his release was her triumph.  It triggered her own, a simultaneous detonation of pleasure that left them both breathless.  Anri rode him through it, her hips moving with wicked intent, each exaggerated bounce drawing out every last drop, their bodies meeting with a resonant slap.  She ground, rocked, and dragged him deeper into her ecstasy until the sensations bordered on unbearable, until their cries mingled in shared rapture.

As the waves subsided, she collapsed onto his chest, their breaths tangling, their hearts pounding in unison. She pressed a gentle, shivery kiss to the damp hollow of his neck, her lips lingering against his salted skin.

“Oh my God,” Anri murmured in approval.

[foreskinniest]

Just saw balls from the back at the gym. Won't need to take my antidepressants today!!!

[doyeons]

ryujin ♡ untouchable (240609)

[chayatorns]

(insp.)

[swordluck]

Anri hummed, a languid murmur low in her throat, feeling the lingering tremors in the depths of her belly – the slow, pulsing aftershocks of his release still ebbing through her.  Tethered by the silken weight of satisfaction, by the depthless well of him inside her, she swayed upon him.  His body, spent but radiant, lay momentarily slack against the restraints, breath uneven, chest rising and falling raggedly.

Cupping his face, her fingers traced the sheen of exertion on his skin.  Even now – especially now – softened by love and pleasure, he was breath-taking.  The storm in him had abated, but the embers smouldered on, waiting only for her to stoke them back to life.  

He murmured of never getting enough, his voice as rough and warm as velvet brushed the wrong way.  Anri had not always been this way – not always so free, so unashamed in her longing – but with him, she bloomed.  With him, she did not hold back.  

“And yet,” she teased, rolling her hips just enough to pull a sharp, overstimulated breath from him. “You want me to let you go?”

Laurentius’ gaze dragged over her, dark with something renewed, something insatiable.  Anri tilted her head, mischievous, her fingers idly toying with one of the silken binds.  

“I like you like this,” she admitted, leaning in, her lips grazing the helix of his ear.  “Undone. At my mercy.”

Beneath her, inside her, she felt the shudder course through him, how his body – sated though it was – stirred at the distant promise of more.  Even in the hush of afterglow, even as warmth pooled between them, a charge still crackled in the air, a restless hum threading their bodies, a pull neither had the will nor the desire to resist.

Anri sat back, stretching like a cat in a sunbeam, letting him feel every slow, deliberate shift of her body against his.  How full she was of him, even as he softened.  How, as he thawed, his come leaked generously between her thighs.  At last, she reached for his wrists, deft fingers working to loosen the knots.  The scarves slithered free, pooling like fallen ribbons.  

“There, darling,” she murmured, her voice soft, teasing, fond.  “You’re free to do whatever you please.”

[ from x with @swordluck ]

She told him to watch her come. He does - he watches her quiver and tremble and moan; he feels her depths grasping at him so greedily, clenching tight around his desperate length. More of those broken pleas go up from him - not words, just a chorus of pleasure between them, of need-softened names and love-thawed devotionals, of promises that he'll watch, he'll watch, he'll watch her come all she wants, whatever she wants. She can have anything. All of him. All -

It's too much. All the effort in the world couldn't stem the tide of elation now.

He aches with it, aches with the pleasure rolling through him, with the euphoria sparking off across his nervous system like lightning down a frayed wire, all glow and heat and intensity; he trembles beneath her, body pulled in a taut arc as his hips desperately press his cock as deep as he can go before he comes, filling her the way she loves to be filled. He floods her, pulsing and twitching with a release stoked to its breaking point by her love-splintered voice, her singing lust.

He can't believe she sang that for him. He loves her for it. She has gotten so much freer around him, so much more gleeful and indulgent in her desires, in pleasing him, pleasing her, pleasing him. It's an intimacy that has seared him right through and left nothing but needy, gleaming pleasure in its heated wake. It is perfect. It will be more perfect still, as each sinks into the other further, as comfort settles deeper in their bones, as they find more and more of their home in one another.

He falls slack against the chain, still buried and softening inside her, watching her hips roll out the last of her pleasure, perched as she is with her hands on his knees. He can see the whole of her body, sweat-shined and heaving with the effort of loving him so thoroughly. He falls in love with her beauty all over again.

"I cannot ever get enough of that," he murmurs. "Of you."

There is a little, gentle laugh that mingles with caught breath as he makes a show of trying to undo the scarves again. It's so easy to slip out of that submissive space with her - back into this gentle love, back into watching

"I'll say - if you want to keep these, you should untie them," he grins. "I'm not sure how much longer I can stand being tied up, with you looking like that on my lap, love."

[sweetfridays]

♡ VINNIE HACKER & TROYE SIVAN sweat tour 2024

[aquareegia]

stop asking questions you know the answer for mr token 🙄

[ghuleh-recs]

did he—did he just PAT HIS LAP? excuse me?

video credit: @moony-ghoul ♡

[soggy-fishsticks]

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS DRAWING!!!!!!!!!

IVE PUT THE SPEEDPAINT BELOW BUT ⚠️MILD FLASHING⚠️ BC ITS REALLY SPED UP 🫡

[swordluck]

⚘ @flash-sweat // cont.

Shyness cracked like a shell under the greedy press of her hips.  Anri clenched – deliberate, distracting – banishing all concern for the unblinking, bead-eye of the phone’s lens. 

Laurentius was so good to indulge her, so good to play pornstars, so good to send his hand skirting along her spine, so good to tangle his fingers in her hair.  It was a show of strength that had gooseflesh rising along her flanks, her back arching, her nipples pebbling.  Eyelids heavy, the smoky scent of the man behind her filling her lungs, Anri obediently lifted her head, facing him in the pool of glass – and then he told her she was a good girl.

“Ohmygod, yes, yes I am,” the words shot from her, though he had spoken a statement rather than a question.  “I want to be so good for you.”

Laurentius looked beautiful – he always did – but now he was behind her, over her.  Any remaining uncertainty had bled from the edges of his face, his focus narrowing onto her like a spotlight.  Yes, let him look, let him see.  No need for stolen glimpses over her shoulder this time, no frantic, fractured seconds of craved eye contact.  Now he could watch, see that every time his pelvis connected with her rear, it sent a ripple running through her, jiggling her backside, jostling her breasts.  Now she could watch, see that each impact reverberated through him too, over his abdomen, all the way to pectorals.

Anri stared, lust-eyed, her pink lips parting as a moan hollowed out her throat, watching as Laurentius pistoned into the place where her body split open like overripe fruit.  Just as sweet, just as juicy.  It almost shamed her how wet she was, how quickly their joining had become a sticky mess, her slick shining on her thighs – on him, beading in his dark curls, dampening his balls as they slapped her folds, striking head into her hooded peak.  It was loud in the quiet of her bedroom, and it was captured on camera – on camera.  Wicked thoughts took hold, and she imagined him alone, watching their movie back, his fist a blur over his length.  Better yet, her mouth wrapped around him while his phone hovered inches from his face, blue light burning in his hazel eyes.

No need for idle daydreams, not now, not in a present that blistered her with its intensity.

“I’m so wet,” she whined then, as if he couldn’t hear and feel it for himself.  Anri watched in the mirror as her flush deepened, sweeping over her cheeks and chest and thighs in a rosy tide.  Her next cry was an unintelligible slurry of sounds that poured from her as Laurentius picked up the pace.  Pale hands gripped the bedsheets in earnest, and she pushed back into every roll of his hips.  Every so often, the angle of his thrusts would plant bruising kisses to some soft, sensitive spot inside of her, the sensation hanging stars in the backs of her eyes.  Close, closer still.  The sound of Laurentius’ skin slapping against hers drowned out the phone, the room, fading them from existence, until all she could focus on was the push and pull of him inside her.  

“I’m yours,” she bleated, a happy whimper bubbling in her throat.  “Your girl – yours.”  

Ever a fanciful creature, she imagined that Laurentius had carved a place in her, that she was moulded to his contours, made to fit him and him alone.  Whatever sins the church branded her with were washed away by him, unseen wounds healed by his hands.  He was all that was holy and good, and he was going to make her come.  The edge snuck up on her like the tide, a violent rush that had her locking up in his grip, startled – crushed under a sudden wave of shyness, an animal urge to hide.  

Closing her eyes, Anri wilted, sinking towards the bed, meaning to bury her face in the crumpled sheets.  Laurentius did not allow it.  Still holding her hair, his hand tightened into a tender fist.  He kept her from falling, his meaning ringing clear even without the feverish no, don’t that slipped through his gritted teeth.  At that, her desire boiled over, and she never lowered her eyes from his, not even when she squealed and bucked and trembled.  

Messy tendrils of hair fell into her face, but Laurentius quickly swept them away, inviting her to stare at their shared reflection – to watch as his stomach tensed, as he rode out the greedy squeeze and pulse of her climax.  Evidently resisting his own release, his hands staggered to grip her hips, holding them so tightly that Anri prayed she would be left with fingertip-sized bruises.

Still shuddering, her throat burning with ragged breaths, she pushed herself up and onto her knees, leaning back to sink herself fully onto him.  Taking one of his twitching hands, she guided it to her belly, so he could feel what she felt, whimpering as his palm pressed against the intrusion.  In the mirror, their reflections were wrecked, blissed out, both shining with sweat, their cheeks stained with blush. 

“God, look at you, you’re perfect...” Anri whispered hoarsely.  Laurentius’ bearded chin came to rest on her shoulder, his broad body haloing hers.  Cheek to cheek, their necks and collarbones kiss-bitten from their foreplay, they watched as his pace slowed to deep, lazy rolls.  Still she took and took everything he gave her, she showed him how good she could be.  She could not have looked away even if she tried, his eyes boring into hers through the mirror. 

Laurentius rutted into her again and again, never breaking eye contact.  His mouth hung open, his gaze glazed over, while Anri’s body sang with the loss of control.  The hand that had pressed into the soft of her belly skirted upward – briefly pausing to palm her breasts – before coming to rest lightly, possessively, on her throat.  Such sweet sounds thrummed beneath the touch.  All she could do was take the pleasure he gave her and be grateful.  Anri licked the bowl clean, pleaded wordlessly for more. 

No circling fingers were needed – another release struck like lightning from the blue, while her body still hummed in the aftermath of the first, and she collapsed under its weight.  Laurentius went with her, still bucking, still driving her on, her breathless and boneless body sandwiched between his and the mattress.  At last his rhythm stuttered, his hips pressing flush against her backside as he poured himself inside her. 

Beneath him, Anri lay like a ragdoll, looking up in exhausted awe.  Kisses rained down on her red face, falling on her hot cheeks, her damp temple, as Laurentius murmured about how good she was:  good and perfect and pretty and his.  Anri listened from the far end of a tunnel, every nerve alight, her heart swollen and raw with adoration, still so full of him.  When she spoke at last, it was through a hazy smile, her voice strangled and thick and adoring:

“Are you happy, honey?”

[rubbish78]

Panic! at the Disco performing 'Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off' in Fairfax, VA on their Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour 2006 (x)

[eiravolence]

truly cannot get over drummond just actually straight up attempting to beat mark s to death. like oh my god. he's no longer useful to them so it doesn't matter if he dies, sure, but even then it's not like you have to beat that guy to death. even if he's trying to interfere with your plans! there is no reason you have to beat him to death. drummond is a man in a position of power committing senseless violence against an employee and prisoner that he feels completely assured he will never be held accountable for. the look on his face as he watches the life drain from mark's face. he enjoys this.

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2023 | No. 26

Working To Exhaustion

The Flash s04e15: “I've been at this for a while.”

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[grateful-for-zayn]

Zayn performing Sweat [STTST Wolverhampton, 29.11.24].

[swordluck]

Beautiful – Laurentius was especially beautiful in the fire’s glow.  Here he was in his element, embers catching in hazel eyes, bare skin washed in warm golden light.  At every opportunity, Anri peeled him from his garments and, every time, the sight of him left her breathless.  They were spring-drunk animals in a dying world.  No vows spoken save those they moaned into each other’s mouths. 

There had been others here before her, Anri knew.  It did not matter.  What mattered was that Laurentius’ eyes were fixed on her now, that he could not look away, that he believed her beautiful, and knew her to be his.

With delicate fingers spread against his chest, she rolled her hips, each rise and fall marked by a damp clap of skin.  Split with love and lust, she only just clung to the rhythm she had set.  Full of him, so full of him, and feeling fuller still when a flame-licked palm smoothed low over her belly.  Somewhere beneath it, he moved within her.  Somewhere beneath it, some hard and aching part of Laurentius nudged against some hidden, bruise-sweet part of her.

A moan unfurled in Anri’s throat, pleasure erupting behind her eyes like a star-burst.  Air came faster between kiss-bitten lips, pulled through the soft o of her mouth.  Perhaps sensing the urgency, Laurentius followed the lines of her silhouette to skim his hands over her breasts, his hot palms grazing stiff, dusk-pink nipples.

Brows knitted, Anri rode him faster, grinding her mound on his abdomen, his dark curls beaded with the egg white of her arousal.  Laurentius filled her, emptying her of everything but instinct and desire and all those tender feelings.  She would never forget this, not for as long as she breathed.  She would forever see his pleasure-flush face at night, feel him heaving under her palms, hear his deep and desperate groans.  She would remember it all and carry him with her always, keeping him stitched into her heart with strands of golden thread.

A throb at her centre told her that Laurentius was unravelling.  He took her with him.

“Yes,” she breathed in unbridled delight.  “Yes, yes...!”

Anri broke on him, a squeal flying from her lips.  As though in answer, a coarse sound clawed its way out of Laurentius, his strong fingers gouging her thighs as she clenched and clenched and clenched around him.  Trembling and thrumming with pleasure, Anri gazed at him, her eyes dark and drunk with devotion.  Then she leaned down, sealing their slick bodies together – closer, warmer – her fingers lacing themselves into his smoky hair as she kissed him through a small, stunned smile.

Laurentius was especially beautiful when he lost himself in her.

[ answer from here ]

Anri breathes it while atop him, hips rolling desperately against him, and it's all he can do to whisper back, "you too."

He means it, too - the expression of pleasure on her face, the way her body gleams in the firelight of their camp as she rocks and bounces and sways -

He regards her with open worship, his hands wandering over bared skin, finding all the little ways to make her gasp even as they both approach the edge.

"The most beautiful woman, I've...ah...ever...Anri--"

[sweetfridays]

♡ VINNIE HACKER sweat tour 2024