#i forgot to render the hands oh my god

[kenobihater]

goddamnit. am i actually having a sexuality epiphany because i'm recognizing myself in a fictional cringefail vampire man. you gotta be kidding me

[livelaughlovesubs]

I have a small request which you can totally ignore if yous wants but-

Imagine Poe (bsd) feeling he isn't good enough and making a self-deprecating comment and reader fucking him while making him say (or until he says) he's worth it 💖

Ohhhh, that’s kinda sweet~ I like it heh

Dom!reader x sub!poe

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), praise kink, overstimulation, marking, fucked dumb

“Who’s my good boy? Who’s doing such a good job right now?”

There was only one right answer. It was him. Of course it was your dear partner. He’s been obeying you so nicely, bouncing up and down on top of you without taking a break. His back was facing you, giving you a nice view of his ass, as well as how your dick gets hurried inside him each time he slumps back into your lap. These shaking hands grabbed yours, making you hold onto his waist harder and leaving bruises behind.

You leaned against him, lips hovering above his neck as your hot breath tickled his skin. A shiver ran down his spine when you whispered something again, “answer me, pretty boy.” That’s what you said, but you wouldn’t give him time to speak and think! Relentlessly pounding him while kissing and sucking on his back, painting his body with marks and hickeys. Who would under such circumstances be able to speak properly? All he could let out were soft sobs paired with high-pitched whimpers. Back arched away from you, hands bawled into fists as he slams himself against your crotch.

His hair was a messy nest, flying around and obstructing his view, not that he could have registered anything anyway since he was only focused on the stretching feeling inside him. Every time he slows down for what reason ever, you’d run your hip upwards to meet his, hitting his prostate with such pinpoint accuracy that it makes him see stars. Electricity would course through his body like huge waves of pleasure, rendering him unable to even form a single coherent word. One of poe’s hands was wrapped around his dick to jerk himself off. But poor baby has been too distracted by the feeling of getting fucked dumb, so much that he forgot to move his hand. Now only holding it like it’s some kind of broken decoration that’s leaking its filth everywhere.

Really, everywhere. His precum spread to the sheets, his thighs, and even his belly. Now everything became sticky because of him. What a naughty boy he was, creating such a chaos. When Poe still didn’t muster enough energy to answer your questions, you squeezed down on his hips, getting a better grip before forcing him up and down your cock in a rough pace. “Hu- ah..aAAHHhHNHgG wait- y/n..!! Too much oh <3 too much!” He’d complain, but due to the moans it doesn’t sound very convincing. Watching his muscles tighten as more tears roll down his body, along with droplets of sweat. His rosy cheeks were so adorable, his body too, so perfect for you. A perfect little toy for you to adore.

Once again you groaned into his ear, “tell me, Poe, who’s my good boy?” After you finished your sentence, you noticed how his rim clenched down on you, holding onto you without wanting to let go. “Mhmm..! I- I…” he tried to answer you, he really did, yet whenever he opens his mouth only more whines would spill out. “Go on baby, take your time.” You smirked at him, a comforting smile that told him everything will be alright. Poe closed his eyes in an attempt to collect his thoughts, but it backfired and made him focus only on the way you stretched his walls. God it was heavenly, it was ecstasy he never experienced before. Whenever you just meekly brushed against his sweet spot, he’d mewl and squeak like a little slut.

This is no good, he was close, he had to answer you or else he might receive a punishment. Why do you want him to praise himself anyway? It’s so embarrassing! When you once again drove your dick deep inside him, hitting spots he never knew existed, he lost all energy and slumped back against your chest. A melting expression on his face as drool dripped down his chin, body sore from all the overstimulation already. His legs twitched around as a poor attempt to balance out the pleasure he received. He was exhausted, he couldn’t keep going anymore, all he did in that moment was giving himself to you completely, letting you use him like a toy.

“This won’t do, you have to speak, pretty boy.” You reminded him, while clasping one hand over his, the one pathetically trying to play with his own member. “Uhh.. it feels ah, hNng too good.” He gave out, barely able to register the meaning of your words. “Hmm, but you can speak right? Need me to repeat my question?” Even now you didn’t give up, fucking his brains out while giving him orders. “Hic, hmm… m-me… ah, I’m your go- uhHnn good boy..<3” Poe answered eventually, after that his tongue stuck out and his eyes rolled back. As if you milking his prostate wasn’t enough, you were forcing his hand to pump his length up and down now as well! He was going to break at this point!

“Good job, that’s right, you are my loveliest good boy, so be proud of it alright?” You said, before pointing into him faster and harder as a reward. “AhhHHHHh!! OohhH! Too much- too deep!!! Y/n HngHh, too fasttt!!” Aww, he’s crying about how he can’t handle this again, such an adorable thing. Since he’s encouraging you so feverishly, you had to respond to his pleads, right? Grinning from ear as to ear as you mumbled, “Shh, don’t worry, you won’t break that quick, I want to make this moment last.”

[padawansuggest]

Boba: *bored in a meeting with some idiot in the throne room*

Communications Droid: -Your excellence, there is an urgent matter for you to attend at the entrance to the palace-

Boba: Is it another fake pizza delivery? I’m hungry and could throw a punch or two.

Droid: …it is a Jedi.

Boba: *sits up with a groan of annoyance* Open a channel with them please.

Speaker: *annoyed and familiar voice* Hey, Fett, please come get this thing, I’m so tired of picking up your shit-

Boba: Oh god, Kestis?

Cal: Yeah, dumbass! I brought your Mando back so you can deal with him and his brat. Just drag him inside, I don’t care.

Fennec: *looking annoyed at someone being rude about Djarin. Only she and Boba are allowed to do that. Sometimes Peli* *follows Boba to the entrance while their original guest is escorted out*

Cal: *standing in the shade with a passed out Din at his feet, who otherwise looks fine* I already checked him and healed his concussion, he just needs a long nap and some pain killers. I don’t actually want him dead so since I was in the system I figured you’d be a better bet than on Mandalore.

Boba: Oh my god. *has the guards bring him in to the medical ward* Wait, you said his ad too? Where’s Grogu?

Cal: Oh! Right, almost forgot. Lil bastard’s been kickin me in the ass since I shoved him in the bag- *pulls an annoyed af Grogu out of his canvass bag and holds him out by his collar like a scruffed kitten* Here. He’s been yelling at me since I found them. Annoying little brat.

Grogu: *struggling in his hold to try and bite him* Patu! ‘You have no honor and your soul will be rendered to pieces at my hands!’

Fennec: 👁️👄👁️ Kestis… that’s a /baby/…

Boba: *gently cradling the tot to his chest*

Cal: *scoffs* That baby is older than me by eleven years, he used to bully me relentlessly.

Boba: 👁️👄👁️ oh my god

Cal: *starts walking off* Anyways, I’m gonna go visit some gravesites while I’m on planet, you know, my old man used to have a place on this sand ball.

Fennec: …did he just imply that Kenobi was his father?

Boba: …I fucking hope so, my only other theory is his dad was a Skywalker. That’s… worse. God that man confuses me sometimes.

Grogu: Patu! ‘He needs to change his outfit, it’s why I kept kicking him!’

[ruthytwoshakes]

after 30 hours we’re done!!!

I love little pootis so much, a fantastic series. If you haven’t seen it yet I really recommend it!! I bought one of the plushies for my little siblings for Christmas hehe.

I’ve been wanted to make some fanart for it for a while, but I wanted it to be special! Since it means too much to me and my family :3 so I tried my hand at digital painting again! Here’s my process:

First I started out with the sketch and putting in the values, (that image is the scene I was referencing.) and since I have absolutely no idea how perspective works I just guessed and went “eh good enough.” I also used my radical composition skills to give the whole thing some life! (Golden ratio my beloved.) I should have gotten some reference images, first mistake, but I was way too excited lol.

Then I duplicated the layer and started painting over my sketch using some painting and blending brushes. Unfortunately I forgot to capture any in-betweens of this process so it makes it a little hard to explain. But once I got my values down and my painting rendered to point I wanted it to be, we started coloring!

And oh god! This is why the painting took 30 hours! This was my first time painting using this method, so I was so not ready for the coloring part. I’m in a love-hate relationship with gradient maps so the coloring was mostly done with blending modes, I think I used the linear light mode?

After watching a stupid amount of videos by Marc Brunet I finally got it! Used just one overlay layer and adjusted my colors and values as needed for this one. Used a couple gradients and other techniques to get the snow and the water looking how I wanted, and we’re almost done!

My favorite step! Adding a bunch of textures and sparkly stuff! It’s not for everyone but I really like it. And congratulations we finished our first painting yippee! Thanks for reading :3

little pootis by @quazies

[britany1997]

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Four

Were you wondering what the boys were doing while reader and Maria were bonding at the video store those two weeks? Wonder no more! Here’s what they were up to lol

I strongly recommend going back to at least read chapter 3 before reading this one, as some of the scenes will be the same, but from Paul’s perspective:)

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

Paul’s eyes widened as he realized who you were to him. You wished you could have stopped the word that fell from his lips.

“Mine.”

Paul stared at you, his eyes raking up and down, taking you in. God you were beautiful, the others would love you. As his shock wore off, Paul felt a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest.

He had a million questions to ask you. Your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite band. Paul had to know anything and everything. (Even if you liked Tiffany or something, he could get over it…eventually.)

As your lips parted, Paul prepared himself to be enchanted by whatever honeyed words you’d speak to him. He reached forward to caress your cheek.

Instead of leaning into the touch as he’d expected you to, you recoiled. His brow furrowed.

“Oh my god I totally forgot I have to go stock things in the back, so nice to meet you, bye!” He heard you blurt out before you moved away from him.

There were few times in Paul’s life when he was actually rendered speechless. This was one of them.

Paul’s brow furrowed, “what?” He whispered as he moved to stand in front of the desk’s swinging door you’d been headed for. Surely he’d misunderstood (wouldn’t be the first time), you had to at least talk this out.

He watched your face twist into a glare, “you’re in my way…” you bit out at him.

Paul’s confusion turned to frustration. “What?!” He repeated, “but we’re…I mean we-” he stumbled over his words, desperate and utterly flabbergasted.

“I know what we are,” you told him, “and I don’t care. So can you please move aside so I can do my job?”

Paul’s jaw dropped.

You…didn’t want him? Didn’t want a mate? Someone who’d love you unconditionally for eternity? Who’d do anything for you? God what was wrong with you?

He stumbled a bit as you pushed past him. “Hey!” He called after you, his ego more bruised than it’d ever been.

“This isn’t over you know,” he promised, resolved to win your heart, even if he had to recruit some…reinforcements.

You scoffed, oblivious to Paul’s plotting. “Seems like it is,” you replied before slipping into the back of the video store.

“What the fuck just happened,” Paul murmured to himself as he rubbed his forehead.

Maria whistled “tough break Paulie.” She bumped him with her hip before she went back to returning DVDs.

Paul scoffed. She didn’t know the half of it. “I gotta go Maria,” he muttered, stalking off with his tail between his legs.

She snickered softly as she watched him go.

Paul shook his head, he was gonna be in for one long conversation when he got back to the cave.

Paul slunk across the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, as he made his way back to his bike.

His head nodded along to the beat of the music playing over the speakers. Paul started to tap out a four count on his thigh as he walked and hummed.

“Are you going to that bonfire Friday?” “I dunno, is Jason gonna be there?” “Ugh, probably” Paul huffed a laugh as he eavesdropped on the vapid boardwalk talk.

A bonfire on Friday did sound fun though. Should he and the guys throw a party? Who would they even invite? Maria? Maria, who worked at the video store with his new mate. He sighed. What a mess.

As he walked, his mind wandered to her pretty face. He wished she would have let him touch her. She looked so soft. He just wanted to hold her. He could be gentle!

He huffed.

Didn’t she realize he was hers? Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? He’d be anything she needed? He’d probably even cut his hair for her if she asked. As long as she let him hold a memorial service after.

She was pretty, and soft (probably), witty and fiery, and she was right there at the video shop and she didn’t even want him. How fucked was that.

Paul frowned as he finally reached his bike, looking back over his shoulder in the shop’s direction. It’d been a while since he’d felt that hollow longing feeling of being alone.

But he wasn’t alone, not anymore. And whatever had happened back there, he and his boys were gonna fix it, he knew they would.

Paul revved his engine with renewed determination. ‘Just wait pretty girl,’ he thought, ‘cause we’re comin back for ya’

When Paul arrived at the cave, each of the boys were too immersed in their own activities to notice.

On the couch, Dwayne was two-hundred and twelve pages into his thirty-first reread of Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and from the way Dwayne was hunched over the book, quite literally on the edge of his seat with his brow furrowed, Paul could tell it was just starting to get good.

Though Paul could barely think over the harsh whirring sound of Marko’s sewing machine. He’d been occupied with making patch-work vests and skirts lately to expand his wardrobe. And while Paul appreciated having some extra pieces around he could borrow, after weeks of hyper fixated, non-stop sewing, the sound was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

David’s constant foot tapping didn’t help either. He was perched in his wheelchair throne, seemingly reviewing some ancient documents. By the way he was squinting and underlying, it seemed to be pretty important stuff.

But none of this was as important as what Paul had to tell them. He cleared his throat pointedly.

The whirring of the sewing machine slowed before coming to a stop, Dwayne looked up from his book expectantly, and a little annoyed, David continued his work, ignoring Paul entirely. “I’m calling a meeting,” Paul stated confidently.

“You don’t have the authority to call a meeting,” David said without looking up from his papers, “only Dwayne and I do.”

Paul wondered if he could explode David with his mind if he tried hard enough. How would he know if he never tried?

“Well it’s an emergency,” Paul gritted.

David met Paul’s frustration with a mocking pout. “Dealer’s out of the good stuff again Paulie? Tragic.” He turned back to his papers.

Dwayne seemed to sense Paul’s desperation, “what’s wrong Paul?” he asked.

“I have another mate,” he said hesitantly, “which means that you guys probably do to.”

David stilled at the same time Marko gasped, the curly haired vampires lips curling up into a bright smile.

“What are they like? Are they nice? Are they funny? Are they hot?” The shorter vamp bombarded Paul with questions, making him cringe.

Dwayne frowned, “Paul…” he began gently, “why aren’t they here with you?”

A broken look crossed Paul’s face, “she…doesn’t want me.”

Marko’s excitement was extinguished as he came to Paul’s side, lacing their fingers together. Dwayne softened, quietly reflecting on Paul’s words. David frowned.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want you?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Exactly what I said dude,” Paul strained, “she said she didn’t care!”

David leaned back, unconvinced. “Tell us exactly what happened, start to finish.”

Paul nodded and painfully recounted every moment from the excitement of meeting you, to the pain of watching you leave as he picked up his jaw from the floor.

David stroked his chin, “are you sure she’s a vampire? Human mates are rare, but they’re not unheard of,” he mused.

Paul scoffed, “duh she’s a vampire! She said, ‘I know what we are, and I don’t care.’ How would she know we were mates if she wasn’t a vampire?” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“Did she say, ‘I know what we are,’ or did she say, ‘I know what you are,’” Dwayne chimed in.

Paul scratched his head, what did she say? He’d been talking about what they were, but had she? He couldn’t quite remember. “She could have been saying ‘I know what you are,’” he decided.

David’s hands clapped together, “so she’s human, but she knows we’re vampires, or at least that you are Paul. Unsurprising, you and Marko have the combined subtlety of an airhorn at the opera,” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s an easy enough fix,” David reasoned.

“Makes more sense too,” Marko added. “If she ran off, it was probably because she was scared. If I was a human I wouldn’t wanna fuck around with us to get bit either.”

“Why don’t we give her some time,” Dwayne suggested, “prove we’re not going to rush into the video store and drag her out to hurt her or anything. We could give her some space to calm down from her confrontation with Paul, and then we can all go meet her together.”

The boys nodded slowly, considering Dwayne’s plan.

“And,” Dwayne added, “if she’s human, we all need to be on our absolutely best behavior,” he shot a pointed glance at David.

David rolled his eyes, “I’d teach her to be on her best behavior,” he mumbled.

Dwayne sighed. “Let’s just give it two weeks, then we’ll go check in on her,” he paused his voice taking on a gentle tone once more, “I think we could all take some time to cool off.”

Paul tensed at that last part, but he knew Dwayne was right. You were a human and you didn’t understand. You couldn’t! They’d have to show you, go slow, ease you into things, be gentle…you were basically made of glass after all.

He sighed, ‘two weeks,’ he thought, ‘I can do two weeks.’

He could not do two weeks.

Not gracefully at least.

By the end of those two weeks, Paul was practically feral. The second the Sun began to fade into the horizon, Paul was awake and attempting to drag David out of the cave.

As eager to meet you as they were, the boys had grown tired of Paul’s impatience.

Dwayne’s evenings consistently began and ended with “has it been two weeks yet?” The dark haired vampire had come so close to just buying Paul a damn calendar.

Marko had had to stick to Paul like glue to stop him from wandering off to the video store every night. On two unfortunate occasions, Marko AND David had to drag him back to the cave to stop him was barging in to talk to you. Paul was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he wanted you bad.

But Dwayne has assured him last night that today was the day, and Paul was chomping at the bit. “Let’s go,” he groaned, annoyed and excited.

“Paul.” Dwayne chastised.

“Dwayne.” Paul mocked.

“Paul,” it was too early for this shit. “I know you want to see her, we all do,” Dwayne reminded him. “But I think we should wait until closing.”

“What?!” Paul huffed, “I’ve been waiting two weeks! Now we gotta wait longer? No way man!”

“Paul listen,” David groaned, “we can’t have a long, intensive conversation with her about vampire mates with random human customers running around, get it? It’s a private conversation.”

Marko nodded in agreement, “it’s doesn’t seem fair to drop all of that on her while she’s still at work either,” he added, “it’s better if we get ‘er as she’s leaving.”

Paul rolled his eyes, “whatever, I bet Fishy’s on my side.” He grumbled as he stalked off to his room.

“You think we should invest in one of those backpack leashes for him?” Marko asked, only half joking.

David scoffed a laugh, “don’t tempt me.”

When closing time finally came, Paul’s eagerness had wavered. What if they explained everything and you still weren’t on board? Humans had tons of reasons to fear vampires after all, you might want nothing to do with them.

He shuddered at the thought.

He looked to his left to see Marko biting his thumb, equally nervous.

“A human mate,” he muttered under his breath, “what are the odds.”

David rolled his eyes, “if she’s a human I can use my thrall, why are you idiots so worried.”

Paul and Marko shot him dirty looks, but Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder. As tough as David liked to pretend to be sometimes, Dwayne knew he was nervous too.

“No use waiting any longer,” the dark haired vampire reasoned, “c’mon.”

Dwayne lead the way, pushing the door to the video store open and letting the bell ring softly as the other boys filed in behind him.

The vampires maneuvered to the desk together, passing through aisles they’d walked through a million times over.

The silence was deafening as the boys’ thoughts whirled with what they’d say to you. How they’d explain the significance of vampire mates to a mere human.

Dwayne sighed, they probably had nothing to worry about. Even as a human, there’d still be a pull for you. And he could work with a pull, no matter how small.

He’d show you, he decided. Show you how amazing it could be to be cared for, to be protected. He’d treat you like a princess, he’d worship you if you let him.

God you must be his if he was already thinking this way. The tug at his heart grew stronger and strongernwith every step. If you only knew the effect you had on him, on them all. If you only knew you could have him wrapped around your finger.

When the boys finally reached the front desk, Dwayne’s musings were shattered by the vision of your tongue down Maria’s throat.

He watched as David’s jaw dropped when he was met with the sight of one of your hands tangled in Maria’s curly locks, the other caressing her hip.

He’d felt it, and by the looks of it, David and Marko had too. You were theirs, but you were tangled in Maria’s embrace.

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

FYFNO Taglist❤️:

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to my list for this fic, or to my main list)

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @anna1306 @arenpath @arbesa-mind @bookworm551 @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @sad-ghost-of-garbage @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @lostboys1987girl @f4iryfxies @bloodywickedvamp @softchonk @walmart-cereal @warrior-616 @katerinaval @memphiscity69 @rynsfandomsfun @fraudfrog @ghostedghostie @welcome-to-the-hole @people-are-strange-87 @blenna3967 @drascilla @jezabella8 @gothamslostboy @charlottieellis @ilikechocolatemilkh @simplyreading96 @mad-is-sad @justaspeachy @pookiesnatcher @jamie-poopoo @buzzybee-26 @cocopuffs1450 @sarcastic-sourwolf @kristel1990 @the-lonely-abyss @mihawksdemoness

[1d1195]

Traditional Extra I

I think this is the moment many of us have been waiting for. I mentioned it in an ask at the time, but I listened to Thin Air by Aqualung the duration of writing part 9 and during this if you want some ambiance, lol.

This is smut smut smut, 18+, no minors please. If you think it could happen during sex put that warning here. Please don't read if you don't want to read about sex. There is hardly any plot.

Anyway. I hope you enjoy and if you want plot, the rest of the story is here: Traditional. Again, takes place during my little * at the end of part 9. I'm very nervous about this so please be kind; I hope it was worth some of the wait.

“Don’t want t’scare y’love...m’a bit vocal during this kind of thing,” he told her.

“I-I’m not,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat again. The idea of Harry talking to her throughout...oh God.

Completely, totally, and literally screwed.

“Okay...I’ll do the talking then,” he hummed against her neck. She felt her vocal cords practically tie themselves together, shutting down all control of her voice. Rendered speechless, he made his way back to her lips with his own.

Since her hands were playing with the elastic of his pants, they were the first to come off. “I forgot you’ve seen me naked before,” he mumbled.

“It was business before,” she reminded him.

“Hmm,” he sighed as he kicked his pants into the bottom of the sheets. At the same time, he pulled his shirt off. Her hands were warm at his hips as she started to draw figure eights along his skin with her fingers. His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself growing at her touch so close to his cock.

Harry never worried when it came to sex. Never. It wasn’t that he thought he was some god or anything like that, but it just happened, and he happened to be good at it, based on the feedback he had gotten in the past. But of course, she was so different. Now she was near silent as she flipped the covers back and looked at him as if she was inspecting him. As embarrassed as he should have been he wanted to read her mind. Wanted to know why she wasn’t saying anything.

Biting her lip, she looked up at his eyes and he watched the way her cheeks turned pink. “I haven’t...had sex in like...seven months. I’m worried it’ll be bad...especially when you look like that,” she glanced back at his dick and then back to his gaze.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Kitten,” he shook his head.

“Also,” she started before he could say anything. “I want this to be about you because you took care of me all weekend and I know you were so upset with me the last couple days and I just want to make it up to you,” she rambled quickly. “Plus, it’s kind of why you pay—”

“Love,” Harry said sitting up against the pillows so he could take hold of her face. Brushing his thumb over her lips so he could quiet her. “Stop,” he whispered and kissed her forehead. “We’ll do whatever you want,” but he silently he promised himself he was going to make her cum so hard she’d never want to have sex with anyone else ever again. “But s’got nothing t’do with making up for taking care of you, or m’crummy mood, or even because I pay you, okay?”

She nodded after a moment of staring into his eyes. “I don’t want it to be bad for you,” she whispered.

He smiled and slid his hands down her neck, over her shoulders and down his sides so he could pull her shirt over her head. She bit the inside of her lip keeping her eyes on Harry’s. His eyes flitted over her briefly. He could feel his heartbeat quicken. “I don’t think s’possible,” he shook his head. “You’re utterly beautiful,” he promised. “So extremely beautiful.”

He leaned her back against the pillows and started kissing down the length of her body until he got to the pants on her hips. It wasn’t the time, but it flew into her head before she could stop it. Harry was slowly pulling at the elastic around her waist, and she felt her heart flutter with worry that he had done this before with others and they were probably way sexier and more experienced in pleasing Harry the way he deserved.

Then a terrible thought blew through her mind and suddenly it was all she could think about. “Wait,” she said quickly as he worked his way up to her underwear again. He pulled away immediately. Put space between her and her body. It couldn’t have been more than a few centimeters but after feeling his skin touch hers all night long, it felt like miles.

He frowned. “What s’matter, kitten? D’you want t’stop?”

She sighed and put a hand over her face to cover her eyes. “I...I didn’t... shave.”

He chuckled before he could stop himself and pulled her hand away from her face so he could see her and more importantly, so she could see his face when he said the next part. “Honestly, beautiful. Of course, we’ll stop if y’want...but I don’t want that t’be a factor or reason why y’want t’stop,” he had this playful smile on his mouth that made her feel silly, but it was also adorable. She could sense the seriousness in his tone. He was kneeling on the bed, looking like he was carved by a Renaissance artist, hands resting on his thighs as he waited for her decision.

“Really?” she said softly, nervously.

“Really,” he repeated.

“Do you remember the last time you saw me naked I was covered in burns...I happened to shave that day...so it’s—.”

“And I told y’that y’were beautiful then, and that hasn’t changed whether y’have completely normal body hair or not. All I can think ‘bout is fucking your brains out, love.”

It made her breath catch in her throat to hear perhaps one of the most salacious things he had ever uttered in her direction while saying it with the utmost sweetness. She really hoped he didn’t see her thighs clench instinctively together to relieve the pressure she was feeling.

He did.

She could see that Harry looked painfully hard. With everything in her, she tried not to stare but it was right there. Somehow managing to be the most perfect dick she could imagine. It was almost embarrassing how badly she wanted it; to touch it, to taste it, to have it inside her. If Harry could read her mind, he would have thought she was a lunatic.

Oh, I’m so fucking screwed, the voice in her head nearly shouted.

“Kitten?” Harry asked. Amusement laced in his voice along with his gentle smile. “Do y’want t’stop?” He asked.

She averted her gaze, only barely surprised by his interruption of her staring. Her cheeks turned pink once more under his gaze anyway and he sank his tooth into his lip looking at her with almost a bit of worry but there was amusement in his eyes as much as his voice. Like she was having some meltdown.

And she was. “Oh, well I think my staring is plenty proof I don’t want to stop.”

“Gonna give me a complex, love,” he chuckled. “But I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No, no, pretty sure I have to pretend to work for the 35,000 you’ve given me at some point.”

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “M’serious, beautiful. Won’t do it if y’don’t want to. S’not about money.” You can have all my money, if I can just look at you for hours and hours; he refrained from saying that out loud, however.

She shook her head. “I know...I’m sorry. I know you’re not like that...I’m just nervous. Because you look like that and I look like this,” she sighed glancing back at him.

“M’not really sure what that means. Happen t’think you’re quite beautiful,” he moved again to put his hands at her hips. “When y’had all those burns, all I wanted t’do was kiss each one,” he murmured and started to kiss down her body again. Every kiss he pressed to her skin was somewhere she knew she was previously burned. As if he had memorized each one himself. Part of her thought that if he had kissed her skin like this back then that probably would have healed her much faster than any balm she could have used.

His hands grabbed firmly at the elastic of her pants again (he even gripped the sides of her underwear too; she wondered if that was on purpose so she couldn’t overthink again once he was done with her pants). He looked up at her as he pressed another kiss to her hips bone right above one of his hands. His eyes looking for confirmation he could get her naked from the waist down. She gave the smallest nod and Harry began kissing down her leg further, not paying attention to the totality of her nakedness that ensued as he did.

“I want t’make y’feel so good, love. S’that alright?” She shook her head no. He frowned and tilted his head at her as he followed the path of his hands over her kneecap, her shin, even her ankle. “No?” He asked curiously. “Y’don’t want t’feel good?” He murmured.

Her brain was trying to focus on his words, but she was struggling with the gentleness of his voice and the way his fingers were dancing over her skin. “Jesus, fuck,” she managed under her breath causing him to smirk. “Supposed to be about you,” she whispered, barely.

“Mmm...m’not okay with that. S’got be ‘bout you too...or I’ll stop here,” he shrugged, and he was knelt by the end of the bed waiting for her answer. “I want t’make y’feel good,” he promised. “Seven months is a long time t’be giving yourself orgasms. I should know,” he murmured casually. She felt like she was swallowing a rock, but she nodded. Harry hadn’t had an orgasm that wasn’t from himself either and that seemed sinful. She wanted to fix that immediately.

“Okay.”

“You’re sure?” He repeated.

She nodded. “Please,” she said politely. It wasn’t on purpose, but her simple “please” made his stomach knot with pleasure. Only managing to cover his moan with more kisses as he started his ascent back up her body, hardly noticing her lack of underwear or anything, for that matter. “Don’t want t’scare y’love...m’a bit vocal during this kind of thing,” he told her.

“I-I’m not,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat again. The idea of Harry talking to her throughout...oh God.

Completely, totally,and literally screwed.

“Okay...I’ll do the talking then,” he hummed against her neck.

She felt her vocal cords practically tie themselves together, shutting down all control of her voice. Rendered speechless, he made his way back to her lips with his own. As he did so he slid his hand between her thighs almost instantly. His middle finger almost immediately found her clit and she let out the smallest whine of pleasure as he gently massaged small circles against it.

“Does that feel good, love?” He asked against her lips. She nodded fiercely. Slowly, he moved his finger down lower; feeling how wet she was. “You’re all worked up, kitten,” he hummed in appreciation. “Y’were really gonna stop all because of a little bit of hair? Poor thing must be aching,” he murmured sinking his finger into her. Her mouth fell open, but not a sound escaped except for her breath. She closed her eyes confirming Harry’s accusation as she practically arched her body up into his hand, her clit rubbing into the palm of his hand as she did so.

Harry felt a little dizzy seeing her reaction. She looked so pretty arching into his hand. So pretty against his pillow. He would like to make her scream, but he would settle for how the breath escaped her lips and any whine he could get. She felt incredibly warm, soft, and so very wet. He hid his moan in another kiss, licking into her mouth fervently. If she was this tight around his finger, he wasn’t going to last long at all inside her.

Which then reminded him of how hard he felt. Almost at the same time, she felt him pressed against her thigh and he subtly rutted his cock against her leg to get some friction for him. She reached down grabbing his erection and wrapping her hand around it. As she did, he gasped pulling from her lips. Giving a little tug, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Kitten, gotta be careful,” he admitted shyly.

She smirked and took the opportunity to slide down the length of his body, kissing tattoos all along the way. Later, she wanted to ask about all of them. Not every man had a full butterfly across the width of their abdomen. Harry turned to lay back against the pillows while she settled between his legs and kissed all around his pelvic bone. How does he walk around with this thing? She wondered. She thought about it back when he was sick, and he wasn’t even hard at the time. She couldn’t imagine it like this.

Carefully, she slipped her lips over the head and the moan Harry released was practically animalistic. His hand slid through her hair by her ear, and she closed her eyes as she sank her mouth further down the length of him. “Christ,” he hissed. “Kitten, m’serious,” he mumbled. “Gotta be careful.”

She would love for him to cum immediately. It would make her feel so much better about not doing anything for months and months while he was by far the sweetest person she could have hoped to meet on that website. She gagged a bit as she moved him toward the back of her throat and Harry groaned as her mouth sucked him in further. Pulling back, she began a steady rhythm of sucking and getting him soaked with her spit. Harry gently tugged at her hair trying not to force her to do anything—not that he would, nor did he need to. She was doing such a good job he was trying not to think about good it felt so he wouldn’t cum down her throat. “That feels s’good, love,” he sighed as she worked her mouth further. With her free hand she massaged the length of him that didn’t fit in her mouth as she began bobbing her head up and down him. He groaned louder than before. “Fuck,” he murmured, and it sounded like music getting him to swear while he felt pleasure. “Stop, angel,” he whispered quietly as she kept sucking and licking. The sounds coming from her were lewder with every pass up and down his shaft. She felt the warmth between her legs making her wetter somehow.

Harry was right, she was aching. “Kitten,” he said again. A little more firmly but she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t forcing her to stop. “Please, I don’t want t’cum in your mouth right now. I want t’feel that pretty little pussy around me.”

That shot through her right to her clit. She whined a bit as she released his cock from her lips, and she wiped the back of her hand along her mouth to remove any spit. Harry groaned again and closed his eyes tightly. He reached for the drawer beside him and produced a condom packet. “Need a taste first,” he said and pulled her up toward him. Harry was somehow everywhere at that moment. He was holding one of her hips as she was kneeling around his head, his face buried at the apex of her thighs. His mouth was devouring her, sucking her clit, and licking between her soaking lips. With what little use of her brain was left, she heard him rip the condom wrapper behind her. After a moment, both hands were on her hips, he used them to pull her closer to his mouth.

If her noises were lewd, there needed to be a whole new word for the sounds coming from Harry. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed about how wet she was, probably soaking his face. Nor did she notice how she still body hair, she didn’t like the way her stomach looked as she was trying to keep herself upright over his face, or the fact that she hadn’t showered yet.

Then she did think about getting a shower with him afterwards and she thought she might explode right there. One niggling part of her brain managed to remind her not to put her full body weight on him, so she didn’t break his neck. But each time she lifted just a little, his hands gripped tighter on her hips. Pulling her so his mouth was almost suctioned to her.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he pulled her off him for just a minute. “M’gonna spend hours there one day,” he promised. “Tastes like heaven,” he gently maneuvered her to kneel back over his cock. She felt fucked already. Literally. She was certain the second his head even pushed near her clit she would be done for. “But I want t’feel it, kitten,” he said, and he brought her face closer to his. She gasped as she felt the way the head of his cock parted her lips so deliciously. Her eyes fluttered shut. “S’that feel good?” She nodded breathlessly. “Are you having fun, love?” He asked teasing her downright throbbing hole nearly begging for his cock inside her.

She nodded again. “Please,” she whispered so quietly. If that was the only word, she ever said during sex then Harry would have to find a way to cum more than once in a short amount of time because it was going to ruin him.

“Oh, fucking hell, beautiful,” he groaned and slid himself inside her, forgoing the teasing he wanted to extend a little longer. Her breath came out shaky as she sank lower on the length. In her mouth, she knew he was long, but it was entirely different to have him sliding into her. How he fit in, she was unsure. Of course, she was soaking wet, so it didn’t hurt painfully. But seven months of nothing but her own fingers had a slight pull on the muscles she hadn’t used in so long.

It felt so good to sink down the full length of him. He stretched her as if he was made to fit inside her. Harry was holding one hip and the other at the top of her ribcage helping her get adjusted to his cock. His head fell back against the pillow, and he let out another guttural groan that made her clench around him. “Goddammit, angel. Don’t do that or I won’t make it thirty seconds,” he hissed.

She was pathetically, practically cock-drunk already. Only managing to situate herself on him with just one pass of his length. Sinking so her clit was pressed to his pubic bone. She let out a whine as she did and then lifted herself up before she started to bounce herself up and down on him.

“Fuck,” he moaned and helped her move up and down. “S’that feel good?” He asked.

She nodded wordlessly, a tiny gasp escaping her mouth as she slid up and down. Her thighs burned almost immediately but even that felt good along with the stretch of Harry slipping against every inch inside of her. She wanted to ask if it felt good for him, but she wasn’t sure she could talk even if she wanted to.

But Harry was watching her bounce up and down as if it was the most riveting movie he had ever seen in his life. He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples and enjoying the small whine that came from the back of her throat as he did. He flicked his tongue around the quickly hardened nub and he pressed small little kisses around it. He wished she would moan or speak or beg...but somehow the little breath of air the whine, it was all so much better than all of it put together.

The blood flow to his cock was making him dizzy and he realized sadly he wouldn’t last nearly as long as he wanted to. He wanted to spend all day between her legs. It was heaven. Paradise. An oasis. God he was so in love with her.

He stilled her hips, and without breaking any connection between them he turned her to the side of him as he rolled on top of her in such a swift movement, she could hardly believe it. “M’not gonna last much longer,” he admitted shyly. She reached out to grab his face and pulled her toward him to kiss him in a brief pause of lust. She was still silent as she arched up toward him to get him moving again. He chuckled slightly and kissed her back with as much emotion as he could force through his lips attached to her. “Y’feel like heaven, kitten. Such a pretty little pussy,” he told her ear. She shivered and looped her arms around his back. Her fingers pressed hard against the muscles of his shoulder blades. She avoided her nails scraping into his skin because she couldn’t imagine a scenario in which someone would see his back, but surely it would be Niall at a pool or something and then she’d really have to quit her job.

Harry was thrusting into her firmly but somehow gently at the same time. Enough to make her whine against his lips. His hips snapping against her waist as she arched toward him on each thrust was making both of them dizzy. Harry grabbed her hand from his back and placed it between their bodies, so her fingers touched her clit. She gasped at the touch and wished she felt embarrassed, but she almost felt depraved wanting to cum all over him.

“Look so pretty, love,” he groaned. His forehead pressed to hers, his eyes blinking rapidly as his lips touched hers. Not really in a kiss, just taking in her breath as she played with herself. He felt her walls flutter around him. “Y’gonna cum, angel?” He asked. She nodded, again. Wishing she felt embarrassed but couldn’t. She could feel the pleasure knotting tightly in her stomach ready to burst if it got any tighter. “Good, good,” he moaned unable to make sense of his own words it seemed. “Feel s’good, love. God fucking hell,” he hissed. Each time he spoke it made her clench around him and the tingle she gave herself by circling her clit was making her messier.

Harry was stretching and pressing against every inch of her making her see stars. Before she could even realize, she was gasping, panting, alerting Harry that she was done for, as she fluttered around him rapidly. “Oh fuck, yes,” he groaned against her mouth and pulled her closer to him as he began thrusting hard and quick against her. It felt so good, her mouth open and she arched toward him, and he groaned. “Y’look,” his voice was stilted as he spoke with each thrust. “So. Fucking. Pretty. Cumming. All. Over. Me,” and she felt like she might pass out or die but would welcome it fully. “Fuck kitten,” he moaned again.

His rhythm finally stuttered, and he thrusted once more into her with a long moan. Despite the condom, she felt the way he fell apart inside her. He shivered a bit and slumped toward her, nearly breathless. His face pressed along her neck and the pillow behind her head. She reached for the back of his head, massaging her fingers along his scalp. Releasing a long breath, she felt like she could finally have a coherent thought. Still, all her thoughts surrounded the man inside and on her.

Harry carefully lifted his head back up and kissed her gently. Just brushing his lips softly with his own. He rolled off her hips, causing her to gasp at the cool air that touched her core as he did. He silently took care of the condom before falling back beside her, pulling the blanket back over them. She moved toward him, effortlessly drawn to him. Slipped over his arm and rested her head on his chest.

She couldn’t help but think that if it was going to be like that, she should have started this when she met him six months ago. Harry’s fingers trailed up and down her arm and she felt woozy and satisfied as she pressed a kiss to his skin. Another part of her thought it was still best given that he was paying her...and finally for what he was supposed to pay her for.

Harry was trying to regulate his breathing, listening for sounds of distress; or maybe her thoughts finally appearing out loud. But regardless, he was so content. So in love with her. And so very happy with the beautiful girl beside him.

--

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[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #29 hero

Chapters 1 to 5 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Nine (hero)

John turned around to head for the next bus stop, not knowing if he would even be able to get there. Taking a step and moving away from the tattoo shop seemed impossible. The weight of the world was crushing down on his shoulders and the outlook of not seeing Sherlock for at least a week cut deep into his chest and right into his heart.

The connection I’ve felt, being with Sherlock. Now that it’s gone, I almost feel sick.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Dear God, I think I’ve fallen for him. Fuck. Not just his looks, which are top notch of course, no, it’s the whole package of his personality. Even if he is a real dick at times. I can’t help it.

And yet, I’m wondering.

Did he feel it, too? He practically glowed down there in the lab, speaking to me, showing off his equipment. My appreciation of what he has achieved made him incandescent.

But does he like me back? As a person, as John Watson, the whole package I come with? Or was he just happy to have an audience that applauded his every move? To be forgotten as soon as I’m gone and out of his sight?

The gloomy thoughts clogged John’s brain and rendered him unable to walk away, condemning him to oscillate on the pavement in front of the shop.

“Oh, hello dear. You must be John?”

John was so preoccupied by his musings that he jumped badly when a woman’s voice suddenly adressed him.

“Erm, yes?”

Looking into the direction the voice had come from, John registered a frail but distinguished looking old lady. She had just sat down two heavy looking bags with groceries and held a bunch of keys in her hand. A large golden number dangled from the main key ring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you looked so forlorn and sad. Sherlock has not rejected you again, or has he?”

“Ah, no, he’ll tattoo me,” John quickly connected the puzzle pieces, “and you must be Sherlock’s landlady.”

“Tch, I forgot to introduce myself properly.” She chuckled and offered her hand. “I’m Martha Hudson. Most of the time I’m more like Sherlock’s housekeeper since he cannot be arsed to do the simplest household chores himself.”

Shaking her hand firmly, John laughed. “That sounds very much like him. Always thinking about ink, is he?”

“Yes, yes. He calls it the INK, written all in capital letters. It’s his greatest passion, he cares for little else.” She unlocked the front door.

This offhand comment struck a chord in John, one whose sound he did not really want to hear again. Doubt. Doubt if Sherlock really cared about him apart from putting INK on his skin. He shook himself mentally, trying to get rid of the anxiety that crept upon him like a feral beast.

“Pleased to meet you. Let me just praise the scones you’ve made. They’ve been the best I ever had.”

Mrs Hudson made a delighted sound. “What a charmer you are!”

“Just telling the truth.” John pointed to the grocery bags. “Can I help you with these?”

“Oh, please, if you don’t mind, dear. When the weather is like this, my bad hip is always acting up.”

John carried the bags into 221A, Mrs Hudson’s flat on the ground floor. He put them onto her kitchen table and was about to leave when she invited him on a cup of tea as a thank you for his help. Like every proper Englishman, John could not refuse.

“Did you know that Sherlock explicitly requested tea and scones for you today?” Mrs Hudson said when she handed John the cup with steaming hot tea, watching his face quizzically.

“No?” The undeniable sly look on her otherwise so friendly and open face caught John a bit on the wrong foot. “I thought it was the usual hospitality he shows to his clients.”

Mrs Hudson outright laughed.

“My dear, he never cares about hospitality. The clients come to him anyway, no matter how rude he behaves. Can you imagine my surprise when he asked me to provide tea and scones for your appointment today?”

She refilled John’s tea cup. “He said I need tea and the best scones you can bake when John comes back. Sherlock even added a please in an afterthought.”

“He was sure I’d come back and acept his offer. He just knew.” John shrugged. “He knew me better than I know myself.”

“Not the point, dear. Sherlock wanted to have tea and scones for you. He wanted to impress you and be nice. You must mean something to him if he goes to such lenghts, don’t you think?” Mrs Hudson winked and grinned.

John wondered if she had adopted this mannerism from Sherlock or if it had been the other way around.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” John decided to be honest with Mrs Hudson. Somehow, he was convinced he could trust her. He added wistfully. “I really wish I would be more to him than just the next canvas to put his INK onto.”

“He’s had a hard time in the past,” Mrs Hudson said, “he doesn’t let people get close to him easily or quickly lowers the protective shield he’s put around his heart.”

“Really?” John wondered. “He seemed pretty open and relaxed when he showed me all the stuff in his ink laboratory in the basement.”

“He what?” Mrs Hudson cried out and jumped up. The hip was not bothering her now, apparently.

“John! He never lets people in there. It’s his sanctum sanctorum. It took four months and constant nagging on my behalf until he let me take a look and I own this house. If he shows it to you just like this, you have to be very special to him already!”

Blissful warmth spread through John’s body. His nerves tingled and his blood sang a dulcet melody full of hope. Could it be that…

John beamed. “Thank you so much for telling me, Mrs Hudson. That he cares about me.”

Suddenly, Mrs Hudson’s posture changed.

She fixated John with ice cold eyes, pinning him on the chair. Steel had replaced every trace of her earlier softness and age-related frailty. She stepped up to John.

“Just to give a you heads-up, you’re not the only person who cares about Sherlock.” Her voice was sharp, quiet and deadly serious. “Or protects him.”

It sent chills running down John’s spine.

Mrs Hudson briefly squeezed John’s shoulder. “If you hurt him, I’ll lace your tea with rat poison. I know a nice lad who is a building contractor and he’ll bury your body somewhere in a concrete slab.”

Theatrical as it might appear, John believed her every word.

And just like this, the fearsome avenging angel that had occupied Mrs Hudson’s body disappeared, leaving the nice old landlady behind.

“Do you want another cup of tea, my dear?” She asked sweetly.

In this moment John decided that Martha Hudson was a true heroine.

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs  @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

[gebstargeb]

Day nineteen prompt 🌙 "Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives"

got hit with the plague and am now a week behind. I can;t draw backgrounds for shit so i put them in the oil dimension

Click the read more for some sketches and doodles for today's prompt

og sketch + wip

also oh my god i forgot to render layla's hand

[usagiumiko3]

hey guys🌌💕 i’ve been diving into emily brontë’s "the night is darkening round me" and while reading I made some connections between some poems and the lnds characters. here are some of my picks that I think resonate the best.

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» the prisoner «

in the dungeon-crypts, idly did i stray,

reckless of the lives wasting there away;

'draw the ponderous bars! open, warder stern!'

he dared not say me nay - the hingers harshly turn.

'our guests are darkly lodged,' i whisper'd, gazing through

the vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more grey than blue;

(this was when glad spring laughed in awaking pride;)

'aye, darkly lodged enough!' returned my sullen guide.

then, god forgive my youth; forgive my careless tongue;

i scoffed, as chill chains on the damp flag-stones rung:

'confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,

that we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?'

the captive raised her face, it was as soft and mild

as sculptured marble saint, or slumbering unwean'd child;

it was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,

pain could not trace a line, nor grief a shadow there!

the captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow;

'i have been struck,' she said, 'and i am suffering now;

yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong,

and, were they forged in steel, they could not hold me long.'

hoarse laughed the jailer grim: 'shall i be won to hear;

dost think, fond, dreaming wretch, that i shall grant thy prayer?

or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?

ah! sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones.

'my master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,

but hard as hardest flint, the soul that lurks behind;

and i am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see

than is the hidden ghost that has its home in me.'

about her lips there played a smile of almost scorn,

'my friend,' she gently said, 'you have not heard me mourn;

when you my kindred's lives, my lost life, can restore,

then may i weep and sue, - but never, friend, before!

(.....)

'oh, dreadful is the check - intense the agony -

when the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;

when the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again,

the soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.

'yet i would lose no sting, would wish no torture less,

the more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;

and robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,

if it but herald death, the vision is divine!'

she ceased to speak, and we, unanswering, turned to go -

we had no further power to work the captive woe:

her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given

a sentence, unapproved, and overruled by heaven.

» ‘no coward soul is mine’ «

no coward soul is mine

no trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere

i see heaven's glories shine

and faith shines equal arming me from fear

o god within my breast

almighty ever-present deity

life, that in me hast rest

as i undying life, have power in thee

vain are the thousand creeds

that move men's hearts, unutterably vain,

worthless as withered weeds

or idlest froth amid the boundless main

to waken doubt in one

holding so fast by thy infinity

so surely anchored on

the steadfast rock of immortality

with wide-embracing love

thy spirit animates eternal years

pervades and broods above,

changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears

though earth and moon were gone

and suns and universes ceased to be

and thou wert left alone

every existence would exist in thee

there is not room for death

nor atom that his might could render void

since thou art being and breath

and what thou art may never be destroyed

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» remembrance «

cold in the earth - and the deep snow piled above thee,

far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave!

have i forgot, my only love, to love thee,

severed at last by time's all-severing wave?

now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover

over the mountains, on that northern shore,

resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover

thy noble heart for ever, ever more?

cold in the earth - and fifteen wild decembers,

from those brown hills, have melted into spring:

faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers

after such years of change and suffering!

sweet love of youth, forgive, if i forget thee,

while the world's tide is bearing me along;

other desires and other hopes beset me,

hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!

no later light has lightened up my heaven,

no second morn has ever shone for me;

all my life's bliss from thy dear life was given,

all my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.

but, when the days of golden dreams had perished,

and even despair was powerless to destroy;

then did i learn how existence could be cherished,

strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.

then did i check the tears of useless passion -

weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;

sternly denied its burning wish to hasten

down to that tomb already more than mine.

and, even yet, i dare not let it languish,

dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain;

once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,

how could i seek the empty world again?

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» stars «

ah! why, because the dazzling sun

restored our earth to joy,

have you departed, every one,

and left a desert sky?

all through the night, your glorious eyes

were gazing down in mine,

and with a full heart's thankful sighs,

i blessed that watch divine.

i was at peace, and drank your beams

as they were life to me;

and revelled in my changeful dreams,

like petrel on the sea.

thought followed thought, star followed star,

through boundless regions, on;

while one sweet influence, near and far,

thrilled through, and proved us one!

why did the morning dawn to break

so great, so pure, a spell;

and scorch with fire, the tranquil cheek,

where your cool radiance fell?

blood-red, he rose, and, arrow-straight,

his fierce beams struck my brow;

the soul of nature, sprang, elate,

but mine sank sad and low!

my lids closed down, yet through their veil,

i saw him, blazing, still,

and steep in gold the misty dale,

and flash upon the hill.

i turned me to the pillow, then,

to call back night, and see

your worlds of solemn light, again,

throb with my heart, and me!

it would not do - the pillow glowed,

and glowed both roof and floor;

and birds sang loudly in the wood,

and fresh winds shook the door;

the curtains waved, the wakened flies

were murmuring round my room,

imprisoned there, till i should rise,

and give them leave to roam.

oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night;

oh, night and stars return!

and hide me from the hostile light,

that does not warm, but burn;

that drains the blood of suffering men;

drinks tears, instead of dew;

let me sleep through his blinding reign,

and only wake with you!

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» anticipation «

how beautiful the earth is still,

to thee - how full of happiness!

how little fraught with real ill,

or unreal phantoms of distress!

how spring can bring thee glory, yet,

and summer win thee to forget

december's sullen time!

why dost thou hold the treasure fast,

of youth's delight, when youth is past,

and thou art near thy prime?

when those who were thy own compeers,

equals in fortune and in years,

have seen their morning melt in tears,

to clouded, smileless day;

blest, had they died untried and young,

before their hearts went wandering wrong,

poor slaves, subdued by passions strong,

a weak and helpless prey!

‘because, i hoped while they enjoyed,

and, by fulfilment, hope destroyed;

as children hope, with trustful breast,

i waited bliss - and cherished rest.

a thoughtful spirit taught me, soon,

that we must long till life be done;

that every phase of earthly joy

must always fade, and always cloy:

‘this i foresaw - and would not chase

the fleeting treacheries;

but, with firm foot and tranquil face,

held backward from that tempting race,

gazed o'er the sands the waves efface,

to the enduring seas -

there cast my anchor of desire

deep in unknown eternity;

nor ever let my spirit tire,

with looking for what is to be!

'it is hope's spell that glorifies,

like youth, to my maturer eyes,

all nature's million mysteries,

the fearful and the fair -

hope soothes me in the griefs i know;

she lulls my pain for others' woe,

and makes me strong to undergo

what i am born to bear.

'glad comforter! will i not brave,

unawed, the darkness of the grave?

nay, smile to hear death's billows rave -

sustained, my guide, by thee?

the more unjust seems present fate,

the more my spirit swells elate,

strong, in thy strength, to anticipate

rewarding destiny!'

» self-interrogation «

(….)

‘time stands before the door of death,

upbraiding bitterly;

and conscience, with exhaustless breath,

pours black reproach on me:

‘and though i've said that conscience lies,

and time should fate condemn;

still, sad repentance clouds my eyes,

and makes me yield to them!'

‘then art thou glad to seek repose?

art glad to leave the sea,

and anchor all thy weary woes

in calm eternity?

'nothing regrets to see thee go -

not one voice sobs "farewell",

and where thy heart has suffered so,

canst thou desire to dwell?'

‘alas! the countless links are strong

that bind us to our clay;

the loving spirit lingers long,

and would not pass away!

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» ‘the night is darkening round me’ «

the night is darkening round me

the wild winds coldly blow

but a tyrant spell has bound me

and i cannot cannot go

the giant trees are bending

their bare boughs weighed with snow and

the storm is fast descending

and yet i cannot go

clouds beyond clouds above me

wastes beyond wastes below

but nothing drear can move me

i will not cannot go

- - -

i'll come when thou art saddest

laid alone in the darkened room

when the mad day's mirth has vanished

and the smile of joy is banished

from evening's chilly gloom

i'll come when the heart's [real feeling

has entire unbiased sway

and my influence o'er thee stealing

grief deepening joy congealing

shall bear thy soul away

listen 'tis just the hour

the awful time for thee

dost thou not feel upon thy soul

a flood of strange sensations roll

forerunners of a sterner power

heralds of me

- - -

i would have touched the heavenly key

that spoke alike of bliss and thee

i would have woke the entrancing song

but its words died upon my tongue

and then i knew that hallowed strain

could never speak of joy again

and then i felt

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» death «

death! that struck when i was most confiding

in my certain faith of joy to be -

strike again, time's withered branch dividing

from the fresh root of eternity!

leaves, upon time's branch, were growing brightly,

full of sap, and full of silver dew;

birds beneath its shelter gathered nightly;

daily round its flowers the wild bees flew.

sorrow passed, and plucked the golden blossom;

guilt stripped off the foliage in its pride;

but, within its parent's kindly bosom,

flowed for ever life's restoring tide.

little mourned i for the parted gladness,

for the vacant nest and silent song -

hope was there, and laughed me out of sadness;

whispering, 'winter will not linger long!'

and, behold! with tenfold increase blessing,

spring adorned the beauty-burdened spray;

wind and rain and fervent heat, caressing,

lavished glory on that second may!

high it rose - no winged grief could sweep it;

sin was scared to distance with its shine;

love, and its own life, had power to keep it

from all wrong - from every blight but thine!

cruel death! the young leaves droop and languish;

evening's gentle air may still restore -

no! the morning sunshine mocks my anguish -

time, for me, must never blossom more!

strike it down, that other boughs may flourish

where that perished sapling used to be;

thus, at least, its mouldering corpse will nourish

that from which it sprung - eternity.

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» faith and despondency «

‘the winter wind is loud and wild,

come close to me, my darling child;

forsake thy books, and mateless play;

and, while the night is gathering grey,

we'll talk its pensive hours away; -

‘iernë, round our sheltered hall

november's gusts unheeded call;

not one faint breath can enter here

enough to wave my daughter's hair,

and i am glad to watch the blaze

glance from her eyes, with mimic rays;

to feel her cheek so softly pressed,

in happy quiet on my breast.

‘but, yet, even this tranquillity

brings bitter, restless thoughts to me;

and, in the red fire's cheerful glow,

i think of deep glens, blocked with snow;

i dream of moor, and misty hill,

where evening closes dark and chill;

for, lone, among the mountains cold,

lie those that i have loved of old.

and my heart aches, in hopeless pain

exhausted with repinings vain,

that i shall greet them ne'er again!'

» honour's martyr «

the moon is full this winter night;

the stars are clear, though few;

and every window glistens bright,

with leaves of frozen dew.

the sweet moon through your lattice gleams

and lights your room like day;

and there you pass, in happy dreams,

the peaceful hours away!

while i, with effort hardly quelling

the anguish in my breast,

wander about the silent dwelling,

and cannot think of rest.

the old clock in the gloomy hall

ticks on, from hour to hour;

and every time its measured call

seems lingering slow and slower:

and oh, how slow that keen-eyed star

has tracked the chilly grey!

what, watching yet! how very far

the morning lies away!

without your chamber door i stand;

love, are you slumbering still?

my cold heart, underneath my hand,

has almost ceased to thrill.

bleak, bleak the east wind sobs and sighs,

and drowns the turret bell,

whose sad note, undistinguished, dies

unheard, like my farewell!

tomorrow, scorn will blight my name,

and hate will trample me,

will load me with a coward's shame -

a traitor's perjury.

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

» the old stoic «

riches i hold in light esteem;

and love i laugh to scorn;

and lust of fame was but a dream

that vanished with the morn:

and if i pray, the only prayer

that moves my lips for me

is, 'leave the heart that now i bear,

and give me liberty!'

yes, as my swift days near their goal,

‘tis all that i implore;

in life and death, a chainless soul,

with courage to endure.

» self-interrogation «

(….)

‘and rest is sweet, when laurelled fame

will crown the soldier's crest;

but, a brave heart, with a tarnished name,

would rather fight than rest.'

'well, thou hast fought for many a year,

hast fought thy whole life through,

hast humbled falsehood, trampled fear;

what is there left to do?'

‘tis true, this arm has hotly striven,

has dared what few would dare;

much have i done, and freely given,

but little learnt to bear!’

[shubaka]

And the KinnPorsche rewatch continues...

First we have the side story.

Oh my god. I forgot about Tankhun's fake tears. Bless this over-dramatic idiot <3

Oh, Vegas, your flirting is really a sight to behold. By someone. Not named Porsche. Or Kinn. In fact, Kinn can't even bring himself to open his eyes and look. :')

OKAY BUT THE CUT FROM PORSCHE'S FACE "You think I'm scared of that?" TO HIM UNDER THE COVERS IS THE BEST.

THE WAY PORSCHE CLUTCHES KINN'S HAND! <3 This is so cute *sobs*

And now Episode 7!

Ahhh, I really enjoy the set for this casino.

OH THE GRENADE. It always cracks me up how they left that one dancer with the grenade at the end.

RIP, my dear, I hope you made it out of this mess unharmed :')

Okay, I don't know if I'm just tired, but the way Vegas pops up on screen in his bloody raincoat made me laugh. :')

Ooooooh, okay. Right after Vegas says you can eat whenever you want the camera pans to Pete, who nods (albeit with a bit of attitude). I see, I see, I see. 👀👀👀

I know it's a lot for Porsche to take in, but I wonder if he ever clocks that Macau is wearing the same school uniform as Porchay? alskdjflakwj :')

OKAY I'M SORRY FOR ALL THE FOLLOWING SCREEN CAPS BUT

THIS AWKWARD 'OH SHIT' SMILE AND WAVE IS GIVING ME LIFE. it is second only to Chay's judgey side-eye :') THE WAY HE GLANCES AT THE PHONE AND THEN BACK TO KIM AKSJFALKWEJA WHYYY?? :') :') :')

How to get a Porsche: 1) get a motorbike 2) psspsspsspss

Macau is so easy with his physical interaction with Porsche. Like, he feels comfortable enough to pat Porsche on the arm during this apology even though they barely know each other and had a pretty shitty introduction to each other... It's interesting, especially since Macau seemed pretty isolated from the rest of the minor family during the dinner. Whether it's because of how he sees Vegas and Porsche interacting, or if Vegas told him something.... that's for the fanfics I guess :')

Chay: "I'm sorry I lied" Also Chay: *immediately lies again*

OHMYGOD I THINK BARCODE IS ALREADY TALLER THAN JEFF HERE??? I noticed the camera angle looked a little tilted and

DID THEY TILT THE CAMERA ANGLE SLIGHTLY TO MAKE KIM LOOK SLIGHTLY TALLER IF YOU SQUINT? ADSLFKAJW;KGJLKA someone please tell me i'm just being delulu i can't take this asldkfjawka sorry i'm gonna be thinking about this for the next 12 business days i'amfkwje;lgakjga

ANYWAY now that I sort of recovered from *gestures upwards* that let me get back to my apple thoughts real quick.

So back in episode 2 I basically assigned the green apple as Kinn and the red apple as Porsche. And of course in this episode Korn was cutting up the red apple (Porsche) as he talked about how cutting apples for his wife essentially weakened and, in his mind, rendered his favourite knife useless. And he tells Kinn to find his hold self.

But then he gives the red apple to Kinn! *cue flashback montage of Korn insisting that Porsche is hired to work for Kinn* And Kinn eats the red apple! *clue flashback montage of Kinn eating Porsche uh romantically*

And now we have Kinn telling Tay that he doesn't want to find the old him. He's all about them red apples now. No more green apples.

And look, this post by @technicallyverycowboy about how the green light bleeds away during the bathroom scene.

:D

[azrail-has-a-vendetta]

oh my fucking god. STORY TIME

I got lost while driving today and ended up in front of a PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS’ building. I looked them up, it’s legit, I read the reviews and the first one is GOLD it’s like a mini episode.

I need 4 seasons and/or a podcast. I’m ready to make this my entire personality, just ummm here (this is probably illegal or smth):

“I used their services in the summer of 2015 and was assigned Nicholas. He is former British military and has an incredible attention to detail. I was contacted by him almost immediately and was in touch with him in real time throughout several periods of the investigation. His reporting was thorough and unbiased, with extensive detail on locations, times and pictures that proved to be a difference maker legally. Those are things I expected when I decided to pay for investigative services.

What surprised me, pleasantly, was Nicholas' empathy and compassion throughout the investigation. There were several moments that proved too difficult to hear or see. In each of those instances, Nicholas was both brutally honest (at my request) and offered a much needed ear for me to vent and process. It was like an old friend helping me through a very difficult few moments. He didn't have to listen, or be there for me. But he was. After his services were rendered and paid we kept in touch every few months. He asked about my personal situation and I updated him on the good that came from his work. We even shared some laughs about topics not related to the investigation. I have never seen his face or shaken his hand, but would take his call or answer a text at any hour of the day. And I forgot the mention, I live on the east coast, and did throughout the investigation. I was compelled to write this public review because of this kinship, over a year later.”

bro what the fuck? I have never seen his face or shaken his hand, but would take his call or answer a text at any hour of the day.

I am CRYING, how do I get a job shadow or internship here?

also how do you get a license in stalking?

I swear I’m normal now. (I’m a lier)

[always-andromeda]

Once someone mentioned to me a percy dolarhyde being reader��s sugar daddy headcanon and I never got over it. I’d be interested to see you write your take on it 🤭

– 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my god I completely forgot about how much I fucking adore this stupid, stinky man. I take one look at him and he just...his dumb punchable face makes me so feel so soft inside. I tried to keep this as brief as possible but oops this drabble is a little over 1,200 words, in true Andromeda fashion. anyhoo, enjoy this, my filthy friends.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (MDNI), mommy kink, usage of pet names, brief descriptions of p in v sex, oral, and handjobs. little bits of angst (because who am I if I can't throw in a modicum of melancholy). nothing else I can think of!

He's not much to look at, but he'll do.

That's probably the closest approximation to what you first thought when Percy approached you. Of course, you knew full well who he was. It's hard not to. Especially with his infamous weekly temper tantrums in the town square.

You weren't surprised. Naturally, as the Dolarhyde brat got older his attention shifted to loftier prizes than money, alcohol, and infamy. He now aimed to hold his power over something new; you. And as much as that idea worried you, you would've been stupid to decline. Being on his payroll...you'd be set for a long, long time. Maybe you could leave Absolution one day after all. So you said yes.

You'd give him whatever he needed. Your body, your time, and – most importantly – your company.

Judging by his disposition, you assumed he'd be the type of man who had plenty of kinks hiding just beneath his wealthy surface. And for the most part, you were right.

Almost immediately you learned Percy had quite a fixation on your...maternal aspects. He could hardly even bother averting his gaze when you were beneath him, chest heaving under the fabric of your blouse. He seemed to like the way your breasts sagged to the sides of your figure; how he could squish them together with his greedy hands and pull at your nipples with his lithe fingers. And when you yelped in pain and scolded his eagerness, you were shocked to be met with his cheeks flushing with guilt.

"'M sorry..." he murmured, looking up at you with those wet eyes like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And just like that, any frustration you felt washed away as he solidified the apology with his tongue.

Percy liked giving them this much attention. He liked listening to you groan as he sucked on your skin and left marks that were for his eyes only. And you liked the desperate possessiveness in his strangled voice when he whispered against your breast, "Mommy..."

There was that and a litany of other little phrases he repeated like prayers.

"Thank you, mommy."

"You sound so good, mommy."

"Do I turn you on, mommy?"

You'd heard that name leave his lips enough times that just the simple utterance now activated you. Heat would flood between your legs and you'd feel sweat begin to form on your upper lip. Heart beating fast, that single word would send you soaring to another planet, waiting for the chapped skin of Percy's lips to mercifully bring you back down.

But he didn't always like you being under him. In fact, as time went on and it became clear that he was comfortable confiding his desires, he requested that you'd be more domineering with him.

Push him down on the bed so hard that you could hear the springs squeak in protest. Straddle his hips and tease him with the agonizing drag of your clothed cunt against his groin. Grab him by his bandana and pull him into a searing, closed mouth kiss that still manages to render him breathless. Tug on his greasy locks and make him sob. And when you finally undress him, take it at your own pace. Because whether you show him the respect he thinks he deserves and carefully unbutton his fitted waistcoat or tear apart his fineries with an urgency that betrays your need for him, Percy said he'd like it.

Because he loves it when you take what you want from him. Even when his cock is fully sheathed in you, he wants you to grind against him and chase your own high. He wants the marks of your fingernails on his otherwise unblemished, silky flesh when you brace yourself on him. He'll beg for you to give him just an inch or two of friction, but you know that he's exactly where he wants to be. Percy will take your cunt clenching around him and savor the feeling of your muscles spasming as you reach the end of your rope.

And he'll adore it when you follow that act up with a gentle coo of, "You did such a wonderful job for me, baby boy." Because then he knows that he'll be rewarded. Either with some tugs with your generous hand or your warm mouth, cleaning up the mix of both of your messes off of his length.

More than any of that, you quickly discovered what he actually craved the most: conversation and company. And that was perhaps the saddest detail of all. But you promised yourself ages ago that you'd never shed a tear for the selfish and stupid man. But you'd listen. There's no harm in that, right?

Truth be told, he didn't have many actual problems. At least not ones that you completely sympathized with. Sure, he was crippled by loneliness and feeling like he was ultimately useless to the world around him. But he found a way to occupy his time with petty squabbles.

Most of his gripes would've made you roll your eyes if you didn't remember that he was paying you for your time. It's for that reason that he liked keeping you on his arm. Everyone else in his posse may have been on his father's payroll. But not you. At the end of the day, Percy handed you his own dollar bills and sent you off with a satisfied kiss on your cheek.

It made him feel special, knowing that you were all his.

"What exactly do you do with the heaps of money I give you, sweet pea?" he wondered aloud one lazy afternoon. You'd left your place on his bed momentarily to squirrel away your latest payment in your bag before taking your place beside him again.

When you nuzzle into his side and feel his arm instinctively curl around you, you chuckle, "Something you probably wouldn't be familiar with. I save it."

Percy pinches your side teasingly and questions, "What can you possibly be saving up for that I can't just buy for you, huh?"

Though you sniff lightly, you find yourself staring at where your hand lays on his chest, fingers drumming softly against his skin. The golden sunlight streaming through his window makes the sheen of sweat on his pale chest practically glitter. You mumble, "My freedom, I guess."

"Freedom?" Percy scoffs. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You sit up suddenly and look in his eyes. "I mean that I don't wanna get stuck here. Because when you get stuck here, it means you're stuck under the Dolarhyde thumb for the rest of your life."

Percy's stare grows cold. He pulls his arm out from around you and folds them indignantly over his chest. "Well, gee. Didn't know you were so miserable taking my money."

"Oh, c'mon, Percy," you attempt to reason with him. "That's not what I meant."

He chuckles humorlessly, "Then why'd you say it?"

"Because I'm tryna be honest with ya'. What else was I supposed to say?"

Say that you won't leave me. Or if you do leave, say that you want me with you. Say that I'm special.

Percy closes his eyes and shakes his head before letting his head sink deeper into his pillow. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all." He pauses, breathes deeply, and finally meets your gaze again, "Just...don't worry about it anymore, alright? Your pretty little head shouldn't have to worry about it right now. C'mere..." he beckons for you to settle down in his arms again. And you do.

Feeling a little emptier than before, Percy holds you and whispers mostly to himself, "My girl...my good girl..."

[spidermasc]

OKAY!!!! I HAVE THOUGHTS!!!! ABOUT!!!! THE WAY THE SUPERGIRL!!!! WOMEN!!!! FUCK!!!!

lena threads her fingers through your hair and hauls you around head first. she’s the only one that can get away with inflicting so much pain because, while her fists tighten enough to draw tears from your dizzy little eyes, she makes up for it by thrusting into places never before reached. “s'all about the angles, baby boy. why else would i treat you so rough?” :(

(also… lena keeping track of your bottom growth… doing your tshots for you… lena medical gloves on my tdick…)

kara never lets you stray too far in the first place. she'll press her full body weight onto you, tuck you nice and tight below her so she can jackhammer into your boypussy with little fuss :3 maybe she'll wrap a paw around your neck, or prop your sternum up with those firm, bulging biceps— but not for mobility reasons, so much as exercises in power. emphasising size and strength differences to stroke her own ego. “god, baby, you’re so gorgeous, my good boy, fuck—“

nia prefers you tied up. you're good, she knows. wouldn't dream of squirming away. still, sometimes you just need to be reminded of your place. of all the things she can do to you. she really gets off on how it looks passing over your face when you realise you can't move; especially if she’s been edging you and you try to move your hands to pull her back. she’ll tie your wrists above your head and put the strap on you, riding you n’ giving you nothing in return :((( or, if we’re talking pre-bottom surgery nia, she’ll fuck down into your throat whilst she grips the headboard… but, that’s the thing about nia— she babbles. you dont have to do any of the work, she fucks herself dumb. “fuck- yes- oh, honey- oh, god, so fucking good- take it, take it- that’s my fucking boy- yesyesyesyes-“

cant imagine taking them at the same time... rip to your holes.

and YES to lena monitoring your bottom growth!!!!!!!!!! (also has me thinking about tmasc!kara and how much bigger his bottom growth would be because of his kryptonian genes....) lena who knows how afraid you are of shots so she always has you distracted :3 either by riding your face while she preps your stomach/thigh or by making you suck her fingers or even ride her.

kara who is SUCHHH a good fuck that you can't help but squirm all the time... either from pleasure and trying to fuck yourself back into her or because her strap is stretching you out in such a painful but good way that you keep moving. of course, since she's so strong, you never have a chance to move even an inch away from her. you get off to the feeling of her pressing her body into you, showing you just how strong she is and that you can't get away from her. making you kiss her biceps as she fucks you.......

nia tying you up with her lasso.... giving you tiny zaps from time to time, especially when you try to break free and touch her @___@ honestly, i kinda forgot some of her powers, but putting you into a dream-state so you're rendered even more useless :P deepthroating you while your hands are tied around her waist so she fits snug in your throat :) kind of just humping your mouth while getting off and babbling about how good you're being and you can't do anything but take it and whine

[lyrakarma]

In the Arms of My Love

Summary: just a cute little thing I'm writing off the cuff. Could be part of a series of one shots. Lyra and Jake share a moment before she has to get up for work <3 sweetness and fluff ^^

Warnings: none, just sweet fluff <3 possibly bad translated Spanish and German, I used Google translate and I'm slowly learning German myself

They didn't sleep together in the same room or bed very often. Lyra could possibly count on a hand and a half how many times they slept together since getting married. For most, they wouldn't see this as a legitimate marriage, but Lyra Shelby-Lockley took this more than seriously.

They were married before the gods after all.

So getting up from bed early to get ready for work was always a challenge. But it had to be done. Leaving the warmth of his arms was the worst and hardest part, especially nowadays with it being cold and all. On top of that, Jake was a cuddler, he clung to Lyra like she was the only person on earth. He held her tight, even in his dreams, and Lyra understood perfectly why.

When they first met, the poor man thought himself unlovable. Nobody had really given Jake the time of day, barely even his alters at the time. Jake Lockley was a love hungry, touch starved man with a longing heart buried deep under his usual brutality. Something about that just hooked Lyra in. It was like he existed to be loved by her.

So now he was doing his usual clinging and cuddling her close and Lyra knew he was awake. She smiled sweetly against him, reveling in his warmth, his scent, and breathing. Lyra gently caressed down his chest, just over his heart before moving her head to kiss his neck.

"Mein falke, I have to get up" she told him.

"Not yet, gatita. Just a little longer...por favor?" Jake replied, still a bit drowsy. (Kitten, please)

"Sweetheart...it's six. I gotta get up to get ready" Lyra's smile didn't fade, "bitte...". (Please)

Jake shook his head and ran a hand through her thick dark brown hair. "Quédate conmigo" (stay with me)

"Honey I just looked at my bank account" she playfully lied, "ich muss gehen" (I have to go).

Jake kissed her head a small number of times, something she absolutely adored. Even so, he held her tight. Jake laughed softly.

"You're not in until noon, gatita-".

"And I still have to get ready because someone decided to distract me from my routine last night".

"Eh, lo disfrutaste". (Eh, you enjoyed it.)

"Not saying I didn't" Lyra giggled softly, planting more kisses on his neck, "aber entscheidungen haben konsequenzen" (but choices have consequences)

"Sigue haciendo eso y tendrás más consecuencias". (Keep doing that and you'll have more consequences.)

"Oh hush you" Lyra shifted a bit so she could put her hands on either side of Jake's handsome face, "what am I ever gonna do with you?".

Jake smiled and without missing a beat he answered: "Love me, feed me, never leave me".

Lyra rolled her eyes but she knew she would never get enough of that damn smile. She loved it so much. She loved him with all she had.

Even without murderous intent, most folks would've found Jake Lockley's smile unnerving. But not Lyra, not his sweetheart. She had come into his life like a warm ray of sunlight after a long winter. Lyra alone could warm and soften his heart, rendering him near harmless.

In her arms he found refuge and the love he had so very much desired for years. In her arms he found his equal. He could forget about who and what he was. All that mattered was he was hers. That was a gift he would always treasure. Always.

In his arms, Lyra found her safest place. She found the place where not even her resentment could get to her. With Jake, she forgot about the wrongs done to her and others she loved. Her role as a hero didn't matter when he held her. She could just be who she was and be loved for it. For that, Lyra was eternally grateful.

She smiled sweetly and snuggled more into him. "Okay, nur noch fünf munuten..." (okay, just five more minutes)

[emotionallydrainedtrash]

Can I request a fluffy Joe Mazzello x fem. reader oneshot where it’s their wedding day and reader thinks back to when her and Joe met in college and how it was love at first sight? Also, after the marriage ceremony, can you include them having their first dance together as a married couple?

A/N Oh god this is adorable.

This is so cliche and a bit long so apologies in advance. 🤭

Lover

Joe Mazzello x fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Masterlist + Request Info

You stood in front of the mirror, a vision in lacey, crystal white.

Your eyes fixed on your engagement ring, the memories of your relationship with Joe swimming through the diamond. It was the morning of your wedding to Joseph Mazzello and you couldn't believe the day was finally here.

As you reminisced, one particular memory came to mind: the day you met.

It was pouring down with rain at the University of San Francisco, the cold chilling you to the bone, and you forgot your umbrella. Your winter coat was doing its best to stem the freeze as you ran to your bus stop, but it was soaked through, rendering its efforts useless.

You sheltered under a tree for a moment to catch your breath and when you looked up you realized you had no idea where you were.

The rain was so dense and heavy it was bordering hurricane territory and your hand probably would've vanished had you stuck it out. You relied purely on muscle memory to move you around campus each day so now that you couldn't see a thing and had to think about your whereabouts, you were completely lost.

The sound of brakes screeching in the unintelligible distance alerted you that your bus had arrived, and you groaned when you heard the rumbling of the engine as it pulled away. So, you'd missed your bus and your only other means of transportation was on the other side of the school and wasn't set to arrive for another hour. You also had no idea where the other side of the school was at this point.

Deciding to wait under the tree in hopes of the rain clearing so you could locate yourself and eventually the next bus, you leaned against the trunk and sighed frustratedly. A few minutes had passed before you heard someone calling your name. Squinting your eyes and scanning the area, they fell on a blurred figure a few yards away.

"Y/n L/n is that you! Is there even a person there?"

You yelled back confirmation, and the figure ran towards you. You grinned when you recognized Joe Mazzello from your Film & Television Studies class holding an umbrella. I must clarify. This was the first time you'd officially met. You were working on the same degree, and you shared a couple of classes.

"Hey, I thought I recognised you. I saw you book it when it started raining and wondered why you didn't just grab your umbrella. Looking at the state of you however, I'm gonna assume you forgot it."

You nodded in embarrassment. He grinned and shrugged off the warm parka he was wearing, handing it to you and collecting your sopping wet one. Thanking him with a smile, he asked what your plan of attack was, and his face contorted in mild horror as he discovered you intended to, "subject yourself to even more of this hideous weather." His words, not yours.

"You're kidding right? I'm sorry, I know we're not too well acquainted with each other, but I insist, come stay with me in my dorm for the night. My roommate moved out the other week so there's a spare bedroom if you want it. The weather's only gonna get worse in the next half hour and is supposed to stay like that for the next 2 days. I just don't like the idea of someone out here for another hour. They're recommending people stay off the roads you know."

So, you did. You and Joe christened your friendship over pizza and study notes. He rifled through drawers and found some smaller clothes for you to wear for the remainder of your stay. You slept in the spare bedroom and awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs being cooked, grateful for the fact that neither of you had any classes that day.

It was such a simple event in your life, but it meant the world to you now. Wiping away a stray tear before your makeup artist freaked out and powdered your face down again, you forced yourself back to reality and checked the clock, hearing a knock on the door.

It was time.

Oh. My. God. Mrs. Y/n Mazzello. Every decision over the last 8 years had led up to this moment. Joe had his arms wrapped tightly around your middle while yours were fastened around his neck. The two of you swayed together in time to the music, blocking out the gathering of family and friends surrounding you.

Taking your hand in his, Joe spun you out and spun you back in before dipping you and planting a kiss on your lips. The crowd whooped and whistled but neither of you took any notice as you guided each other across the floor. When your fingertips brush over your husband's ring, you couldn't help but grin.

"What are you smiling at Mrs. Mazzello?"

"Your wedding ring Mr. Mazzello."

Joe brought your hand to his lips and kissed your own ring before pulling you close to him once more to kiss you sweetly as the song ended and your families cheered.

"Thank God for that damn hurricane."

-Sarah💛

[hopepaigeturner]

An Offer From an Avid Reader: Anthony and Benophie pt.3

Belatedly realised I still had part 3 of this in my draft and almost forgot about it  😂 😂

These scenes take place in the final episode sans, Sophie accepting Anthony's offer to be Francesca's ladies maid (allowing her to remain employed but distance from Benedict) and the Ep7 cliffhanger of Sophie being thrown into the jail.

*~*~*~*~*

Anthony is pacing outside of the modiste, checking his stopwatch. Suddenly a very haggard Benedict turns up, deep shadows under his eyes and distressed appearance.

“By gosh, Benedict, you look like death.” Anthony grabs Benedict’s face and inspects it, Benedict blurrily responds. “Have you slept at all these past two days?” Benedict shrugs.

“It is either nightmares or insomnia.”

Anthony tsks regretfully.

“You shall wear yourself to the bone like this.”

“I can sleep when I know she is safe.”

Anthony gives his brother an unimpressed look but wisely decides not to push teh matter further.

“And you are sure this is a profitable avenue for information?” Anthony notions to Genevieve’s green door.

“Genevieve is Sophie’s oldest friend. If Sophie needed sanctuary she would have come here.”

They both knock loudly and hear muffled noises. Genevieve wrenches the door open, still in a  dressing gown, and upon seeing both Bridgerton boys, (and due to their most recent unfavourable encounters with her), she glares and immediately goes to slam the door.

“Wait!” Anthony shouts, blocking the action.

She huffs with her most withering glare.

“I am tired of you Bridgertons hounding my door—leave me in peace.” With surprising strength, she jostles Anthony away.

“Araminta knows Sophie is in London!” Benedict cries.

Genevieve swings the door open, face aghast.

“What did you do?”

“My sisters let slip that Sophie was working for them and now Sophie has gone missing.” Benedict’s voice breaks. “I have spent the last two days scouring the streets, please Genevieve, please tell me she came to you.”

Her face is as gaunt as Benedict’s—the only two people who understand the true peril of the situation.

“No, no. I have not seen Sophie for weeks…oh god.”

Anthony steps forward.

“We need your help. Ofcourse we will reimburse—”

“Oh fie on you, your Lordship! As if I need money to rescue my friend. Wait a moment and I shall return.”

She does return, fully dressed, and accompanies the men to lead them to various old haunts of Sophie’s. As they walk Anthony is stunned to find out that both Benedict’s former lover and future wife are best friends.

Ginny waves off his judgements until she registers his words.

“Future wife?” She turns to Benedict, incredulous. “You wished to marry Sophie?”

“I still do. I asked her a fortnight prior, but she rejected me.”

Genevieve halts.

“You proposed?”

Benedict turns to her.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It is Sophie.” Benedict states as if that statement should be enough. Ginny continues blinking.

“I know, I love that girl and she is one of the finest women I know but…you proposed?”

Benedict throws his hands in the air.

“Why is everyone so surprised by the fact? It is Sophie. Sophie who is...she is just…”

The other two stare as the usually eloquent poet is rendered speechless trying to describe the love of his life.

“She is Sophie. She is my everything.”

“I keep forgetting to stop underestimating you, Benedict,” Genevieve replies, still a little stunned.

“I suppose the knowledge of Grandma Alexandra’s bequest encouraged your heart along,” Anthony comments.

“Her ring?” Benedict asks.

“And the sizeable income she left for you and any prospective family on your marriage day.”

“What income?”

“You truly did not know?” Anthony turns, Benedict shrugs, utterly perplexed. Anthony continues, “You would have faced the backlash of the ton, ridicule, whispers, and possible estrangement from the family…for her?” Anthony continues in disbelief.

“I would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her,” Benedict replies. A dawning realisation comes over Anthony.

“To honour her being with your words and deeds,” he finishes. The brothers share a poignant look.

“Indeed, and you will not sway my mind.”

Anthony sighs, the exasperated sigh of a bedraggled elder brother.

“Unfortunately, stubbornness is a family trait. Thank goodness Sophie has a good head on her shoulders—I was on the verge of despair for you.” Benedict smiles slightly before it falls away to worry. Anthony claps him on the shoulder. “Do not worry, brother, we will find her. Knowing Miss Beckett’s character, I think we all know she shall persevere through any circumstance.

*~*~*~

Then we get Sophie in prison sequence…

Honestly I want this to be the only time the ‘What is it to admire a woman’ is mentioned. I don’t want it to be overused in the series as a whole, and placing its return in a Benedict/Anthony context fits I feel.

That is the main part of the Anthony/Benophie interaction. Anthony does accompany Benedict and Violet to the prison to throw his weight around, as well as witness how in love Sophie is with Benedict. Then everyone returns to Bridgerton House.

(In my version of the bath scene is back at Bridgerton house, mainly because unlike the book, Benophie’s story/show will not just end there. It is an ensemble show so there needs to be final wrap up of other storylines etc. Therefore no overtly seggsy times. Don’t worry! instead we will get moments of cute Benophie ‘courting’ one another, a Benophie wedding and wedding night scene that hopefully will make up for it).

But before the bath scene, Sophie arrives back at Bridgerton house and is immediately wrenched out of Benedict’s hand by the enthusiasm of his sisters. (When this happens both Benedict and Sophie look utterly petrified, their terror of being separated once more fizzing through them).

Eventually Sophie is swept away, regardless of her protests, up the stairs for a bath. Anthony is left to stand next to Benedict…

“Well, that is all over now.”

“Yes…yes…” Anthony looks to find Benedict with lingering terror in his eyes, still staring after Sophie. Anthony puts an arm on his shoulder.

“Benedict, Sophie is safe.” Benedict nods mutely, but his entire being seems as delicate as cracked glass.

“Yes, I know…I know…”

“You will have a long and very happy life together.”

“Yes,” the tears threaten to erupt, Benedict looking as if he is on the verge of a breakdown, as his barriers brea down and he finally allow the emotions, pain and terror from the past days to be felt. “Yes, yes we will…”

Anthony looks at the empty doorway then sighs and turns to a maid.

“Will you be sure that Miss Beckett is put in the twin bathroom? She is to reside there for her stay and I believe she will appreciate a little solace and rest after her ordeal.”

“Yes, your lordship.”

Benedict looks at Anthony with furrowed brow.

“Is that not Francesca and Eloise’s old bathroom…the one they shared because it had two doors—" Benedict turns to his brother, eyes agog. Anthony does not meet his eye.

“You have a couple minutes before the staff make the connection and even less than that to sneak into that bathroom unseen—just please be discrete.”

“You are the best, brother.” Benedict cries. He embraces Anthony fiercely before running up the stairs. Anthony sighs and turns, walking towards his study.

“I need a stiff drink,” he mutters.

Anthony is allowed a little moments peace before the family descend. A little peace before someone asks the question.

“Where is Benedict?”

And ofcourse, Anthony has never been able to lie to his wife—or his mother for that matter. Alas that is for another post.

*~*~*~*~*

What do you think? I would love your quesitons/comments/thoughts.

Part 3/3. Part 1 here & Part 2 here

I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests. Currently editing a rewrite of the 'garden scene' if anyone wants it.

Or check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.