#its hell to clean and maintain but so pretty

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[factorydefaultlu]

pegging w alastor?? fic drabble hcs IDC i neeed more

Inch by Inch

Alastor x GN!AFAB! Reader

TW: Pegging, no prep anal sex, blood as lube, strap referred to as a cock, begging, BDSM dynamics

Having Alastor bent over the desk in his radio tower. He's stripped naked while you're still fully dressed, save for your pants being unbuttoned to reveal your strap. The pretty red silicone one.

Alastor's favorite.

Teasing him relentlessly, tugging his tail and his ears. Smirking as he tries to fight you off and maintain his composure.

It doesn't work and his cock keeps getting harder, dribbling precum all over the desk.

You spit on his pretty, puckered hole and work a finger into him. He hisses at the intrusion, but pushes his ass back against your hand.

Slut.

You add another finger and crook them, finding that smooth spot inside him that makes his voice crackle and ears lay flat.

Alastor pants and you barely have to do any work as he fucks himself back onto your fingers.

The chair scrapes the wood as you stand up and pull your hand away from him. He whines but it's cut off when you shove his face down into the grain of the wood.

You spit onto his ass once more and start prodding his hole with the tip of your cock.

Al's tail wags in excitement, though he will never admit that.

You have half a mind to flick the microphone on and broadcast what's about to come next.

Let all of Hell hear how the all mighty Radio Demon is just a whiny little bitch that likes his ass fucked.

Alastor would have your head however, and unfortunately you've grown quite attached to it.

Your thoughts are pulled to the forefront as Al whimpers, trying to push back onto your cock.

Desperate.

"Use your words." you demand, wanting to belittle him.

He whines and squeezes his eyes shut. A beautiful red is splashed across his cheeks, arousal and embarrassment getting the better of him.

"Please. Please, I need it. I need you." the radio filter cuts in and out as he loses control.

You decide to give him what he wants, in the worst way possible. Your hips jut forward and all 7 inches of your cock stretches him open as you bottom out.

Alastor practically screams and claws at the desk, blood drips down his thighs from the tear your cock made. He makes no effort to get away or tell you to stop though.

Masochist.

You start a brutal pace, and soon the sound of your hips and the squelching of his blood fill the studio.

He's wailing as you bully his prostate, fucking him like a fleshlight, like he's nothing but your toy.

He is.

With each thrust his cock rubs the rough wood and he gets closer and closer to his orgasm. It build in his stomach like fire and he desperately wants to reach between his legs and jerk himself off.

Alastor knows better than to play with toys that aren't his.

You're losing yourself in the pleasure, the ridge inside the strap is rubbing your clit in all the right ways and you're close to cumming as well.

He can sense this and tries to roll his hips to help you cum, because the faster you cum the faster he gets to as well.

You grip his hips harder and spread his ass apart, watching your cock slip in and out of him. Each time you pull out, his greedy hole does its best to suck you back in.

Closer and closer until suddenly you feel lightning strike you and you're moaning as your hips spasm.

Alastor grins wildly, excited to finally get to cum. He rolls his hips harder as you ride out your orgasm, and goes to reach his hand between his legs.

Your own hand grips his hair roughly and yanks his head up. His back arches and you look him right in the eyes.

"Why don't you clean me up, then we'll see if you're allowed to cum."

He whines, "Please, no no. I was so good. I didn't talk back this time! I didn't touch myself! I was good!" he pleads.

"One right doesn't absolve all your wrongs. Now get on your knees."

[satoruwiki]

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

[restwellsoon]

Afterhours

Minors and ageless blogs do not interact (liking/reblogging) or follow! You will be blocked!

Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader

Summary: The Red Hood decides to confront you after work regarding a curious rumor you started as an informant. 

/ “You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

Warnings: dubcon, crime lord!Jason Todd/ Red Hood, degradation and humiliation, toys, daddy kink, being called princess, mention of drugs (for the plot)

Scrubbing at your arms to get some kind of warmth, you huffed impatiently. The informant was late. Sure, it was understandable why the Bat would want all contact to be verbal; both of you–well, mainly you–would go down if you were caught. Everyone knew what Cobblepot was capable of. The shorter list of convictions compared to other Gotham criminals didn’t mean that he was less capable, and working for the corporate and legal end of his business meant that you were privy to the real reasons behind the sudden company reorgs.

You shivered before deciding to pace around your office. It wasn’t like the informant to be late. Were they caught? Were you busted? Maybe you should just go home. You spent too many hours working overtime anyway.

The goosebumps weren’t going away. The office A/C that you cherished in the sticky and humid summers of Jersey was now a frigid hell. You weren’t sure of who was punishing you–the Batman or the Penguin.

With the creak of your door, you snapped, “About fuckin’–”

The last word fell into the nylon carpet as you stared into the glowing eyes of the Red Hood. The door slammed shut, and he left it unlocked. It didn’t matter. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get past him anyway. Instead, you froze in front of your desk.

“Yeah, let’s talk about getting fucked.” The robotic drawl of your full name in perfect pronunciation made you grimace as he stepped towards you. Any thoughts of him walking into the wrong office and getting the wrong person were gone. “That was pretty ballsy of you to drop my name in your conversations with the Bat.”

You couldn’t even deny his accusation. You thought you were being clever, that maybe you could do some of that double-crossing shit that the vigilantes and villains played so easily. It seemed easy because you were an amateur; maybe you were fucking up this entire time. All you remembered were the extra zeros in your bank account as you played Batman and your boss.

“Mr. Cobblepot has an image to maintain,” you told the informant–Spanky? Or was it Matches? Either way the name was ridiculous–“so he wouldn’t intentionally let this new drug hit his clubs.”

The latest street drug in Gotham had a similar chemical compound to drugs like buprenorphine and chlordiazepoxide. They eased the symptoms of withdrawal, making a more tolerable and safer transition into sobriety.

“So you’re saying that sobering up his clients isn’t in his best interest?” His mustache twitched, and you wondered if it was glued on or real.

“Exactly. His regular clients would seek out other dealers to get the high they’re used to. They don’t go to the Iceberg Lounge for the atmosphere. They go because it’s one of the safer options to get snowed. Who knows what sort of diabolical shit is mixed into the Black Mask’s supply?”

His mustache wiggled as he hummed. “Well, if it isn’t the Penguin, who else would put this on the streets?”

The informant paid close attention to your words as you paused to give him a new lead. 

“Well, if you're looking for the name of a cartel or gang, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I don’t know much about its manufacturing or distribution. I work in communications, so…” 

Crossing your arms, you blew some air as you tried to think of a name to distract the Bat and keep your wallet fat. “The only crime lord that would benefit from this is the Red Hood, don’t you think?”

Ever since he first showed up on the scene, he’d been adamant about cleaning up the underbelly of Gotham. His strict rules against selling to kids made the areas he controlled safer. Commissioning this drug and letting it hit the Gotham market was a way to help addiction-addled neighborhoods rebuild. 

His expression was unreadable behind his dark glasses. The only way you knew that he was satisfied with your answer was when you heard your bank app ding with the agreement that you’d meet again in two weeks.

At the time, you thought that mentioning the Red Hood was ingenious. Compared to other criminals, the Red Hood seemed to be less vicious towards women. Since his rise to power, there hadn’t been any reports or news about him or his henchmen attacking them. If the informant wanted you to name drop someone, you were going to choose someone who would maybe spare your life. Yet seeing him up close gave you some doubt.

You swallowed your nervousness as you edged to the desk. Your hands blindly reached for something that could do some damage, but alas, your laptop was packed away and your pens were in their drawer.

“Look,” he sighed, “if you’re gonna play dirty, you gotta make sure your opponent can’t find dirt on you.” It was a roundabout way of calling you a dumbass.

You half turned to watch him circle round your desk, kneeling to dial in the combo to your locked drawer. Stupidly, you got closer when you heard the click that told you he opened it successfully. Using your birthday backwards as the combo was enough to deter nosy co-workers but clearly wasn’t not secure enough to deter a crime lord with a vendetta. If you made it out alive, you promised yourself that you’d change all of your passwords to something with stronger security–you’d even make sure that you didn’t repeat them on several accounts.

“Jesus,” the Red Hood laughed through his modulator, “you got the rechargeable one too? I’m not sure if Cobblefield ain’t paying you shit, batteries are expensive, you’re environmentally-conscious,, or it’s some combination of the above.” 

The sight of a cross-armed Red Hood with your rabbit vibe in his hands was something you’d never imagine in your wildest dreams.

“Your little toy isn’t the only thing I found out about you.” 

Oh god, what else did he find? Your face felt hot from embarrassment.

“Did you know that the sites you go on and the things you search can still be tracked by an establishment’s WiFi network log?” 

He was grinning beneath the mask, you just knew it. Bastard. 

“Yeah, even if you use your phone on private browsing… Crazy, right?”

All you could muster was a choked ‘yeah’ as you tried to recall everything you looked up in the past week. It was highly likely that the Red Hood looked back at least a month. Now what did you search for that wasn’t related to work?

You didn’t have to recall. He listed it out for you in a painfully slow and enunciated manner.

“Red Hood shirtless, Red Hood legs spread, Red Hood dick size, mask or helmet kink, intro to BDSM, what is a service top… And this was just within the past two weeks, goddamn.” He shook his head in judgment. “Should I continue?”

Fuck.

You couldn’t show fear to these types of people, you learned early on in your career. That’s what they got off on.

“What’s wrong with a woman having a healthy sexual appetite?” You asked defensively. “You some kind of prude or what?” That seemed to get a genuine laugh out of him.

“See, here’s the thing,” he told you, helping himself to your luxury office chair, leaning back as his boots settled on the desk. “Everyone thinks that I’m a bad guy, that I just blindly use violence to punish even badder guys. ‘There aren’t any brains under that hood! He’s just some beefy bastard with a fat cock! An idiot! A dunce!’” If he was speaking in some high-pitched mocking tone, his modulator didn’t catch it. It stayed in that robotic monotone.

Jason paused for a second to see if you’d agree, forgetting that a normal reaction was to be scared shitless and mute. When you didn’t make an indication of anything, those combat boots of his hit the carpet with a thud, chair screeching and lurching forward to see your face. Your toy laid forgotten on the desk.

Audibly you swallowed as you looked at him–well, not really him but the mask that he wore, the bright white of his eyes a stark contrast to the cherry red of his helmet. It was the mystery of what he looked like beneath it that drove your imagination wild. What color were his eyes? His hair? How full were his lips? Did he have scars?

As if knowing that you wanted a better angle, he tilted your chin to comply with your unspoken wish. It wasn’t as if it changed anything; you still knew nothing of his looks, but the cool leather of his glove made you more aware of how starved you were of any kind of touch. That healthy sexual appetite you claimed to have suddenly turned into hunger pangs.

“There was a lot of thought put into this plan, sweetheart,” the Red Hood chided.

His glove left your face to press on some hidden panel close to his jaw. There was a soft click that loosened his helmet.

Then you heard him–somewhat muffled and low and incredibly human. 

“See, I’m giving you a pretty sick deal. You get to live out one of your fantasies in exchange for recanting your statement to the Bat. Even if I have nothing to hide, I hate whenever the old man comes sniffing around. Don’t worry. I’ll even promise my protection too in the event of retaliation–from him or Cobblepot. Do we have a deal or not?”

Your voice came out breathier than you realized. “And if I say no?”

He made a show of taking off his helmet, and to your surprise, a red domino mask covered his eyes. Tousling his dark curls, he pursed those perfect lips, “Well, shit. When I was searching through those logs, I figured that you’d be so horny for me that refusing wouldn’t even cross your mind.”

It was starting to make sense why Cobblepot was always irritated after dealing with the Red Hood. You laughed. “Look Hood, the quips were cute at first, but they’re getting old fast. You’re so full of yourself. Now tell me what happens if I refuse.”

“One, if you say yes, you could be full of me too.” You imagined that if he took the domino off that he’d punctuate that sentence with a wink. “And two…”

You could hear the smile in his voice along with something devious. When did he get so close? He was slotted between your legs as you sat on the edge of your desk. The cool feel of his gloves pulled your arms back and held your wrists there, leaving you captive to whatever he had to say.

“You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

“Oh yeah?” you breathed out. Fine, you’d admit it. That was fucking hot. “Then show me.”

“Show you what?”

His thigh nudged your center, pushing your dress skirt up with the motion.

“What you do to bad girls,” you said through gritted teeth. His hold on your wrists kept your upper body in place.

“Say it for me first.”

But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t use your leg to drag him closer. You hooked one leg behind him. Now you could feel his length against you though he wouldn’t budge otherwise.

“Please.” 

Nothing.

“Daddy, please.”

“You can be obedient when you want to be, huh? Fuckin’ brat.” Jason found amusement in your frustration. “Sorry, but those aren’t the right words. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, we have a fuckin’ deal.”

Finally that thick thigh was back to putting sweet pressure on your clit, the Red Hood’s slight movements providing teasing friction that kept you slick.

“Atta girl, princess. ‘Fraid I gotta shut you up for a few though. I know your performance reviews say that you’re well-spoken, but they made no mention of you being so damn chatty.”

Before you could talk about the irony of his comment, Jason let your wrists go and stepped back, using his free hands to unzip his pants and pull out his cock and balls. Your mouth hung open at the sight.

Giving it a stroke upwards, his balls followed the movement. Jason smeared his precum over the shaft, giving it a nice shine before ordering you to lay flat on your desk with your head hanging from the edge. His sack looked heavy and full.

“So this is what you meant–”

“Less talking, more sucking,” he grunted, taking the opportunity to shove the tip into your mouth.

The girth was unexpected as your jaw stretched to accommodate his size. You gave it a suck before relaxing your throat to take more of him. Jason eased into you slowly, watching as you swallowed as many inches as you could before pulling out and smearing his spit-laden cock across your mouth. You jerked him while gently sucking on his nuts, thinking about the reward you’d get if you could edge him long enough. The thought of him filling you up with a big, hot load made your center ache.

So focused on your thoughts, you hardly noticed that Jason replaced himself with your toy, watching as your drool frothed and dribbled down your chin while you gagged.

“Be patient with me, princess,” he murmured as he leaned across your body, vibe in hand, to push your panties aside, cock pressing against your cheek. You tried to move your head to take his length but the Red Hood’s weight made it difficult to do so.

Jason wasted no time shoving the entirety of the toy inside you, making you gasp. If you wanted him as desperately as he thought, then he had to prep you well so you could take him.

“Patience,” he lightly scolded you. “Damn, if I knew you were this needy for Daddy’s cock, I would have come earlier so the fun could last longer.” He placed himself back in your throat.

Slow deep breaths through your nose, you reminded yourself. It was difficult though when he was facefucking you in sync with your toy. There was little room for your moans and sighs to escape.

He most definitely understood your muffled ‘FUCK’ when he turned on the toy though, both shaft and rabbit ears vibrating. Your knuckles were white from desperately clutching at whatever you could; you needed something to keep you grounded from the assault on your clit, toy shaped perfectly to hit your G-spot.

The vibe kept making you moan, making your throat squeeze in ways that would make Jason cum early. “That’s it for now,” he said to deaf ears, pulling out to focus on playing with your pussy. He repositioned himself so one hand controlled the toy and the other held you down.

“Is this all you got?” You taunted, sweat catching the neon lights from the window. Your hair was disheveled and stuck to your forehead. Your legs quivered. You looked pathetic. 

The Red Hood laughed, and you weren’t sure of what you wanted more of–that mocking robotic modulator or the rich tones of his real voice.

“The way your lips are wrapped around that toy tells me that’s more than enough. If you want this,” his cock was still perfectly hard and this angle highlighted the thick veins that lined his shaft, “then we need to take our time. Luckily for you, I have the patience of a saint.”

“Well, I don’t. Sit down, so I can fuck you.”

He was used to more demure requests to ride him, so your brazen words lit something inside Jason. Fuck it, he thought. He was still annoyed at you mentioning his name to Bruce. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he watched you struggle to take him.

The toy came out with a yank, your pussy aching. The emptiness was only temporary though. There was something more filling, waiting for it.

Seeing that slight look of surprise on his mouth was worth it as you pushed him onto the chair, spitting on his cock before straddling him. Your panties were lost in some dark corner along with your bra. Your disheveled office wear struggled to maintain your modesty with loose buttons and crumpled fabric.

“Mmfph–fuck!” 

Your nails dug into the Red Hood’s shoulders as you tried to find your pace. You had about halfway more to go.

“Told ya,” he said smugly, reaching beneath your dress to squeeze your ass. He buried his face in your tits, sucking on whatever flesh he could. You gasped when he finally reached your nipple, his tender suction making you shiver.

“Big motherfucker,” you grumbled, bouncing up and down on what you could with his help.

“Damn, you feel good,” Jason sighed. 

Lately he’d been so focused on the complicated aspects of his line of work; it seemed like he could never just chill and do something for himself. Isn’t that what all the experts say? That self-care was important?

So when one of his informants told him that Bruce and his band of bat brats were poking around his turf, Jason’s first thought was to dispose of whoever Bruce paid off. When the informant said that the rat was the Iceberg Lounge’s hot publicist, he considered his first reaction too harsh, that perhaps it’d be best if he investigated this personally. Oh, he was so fucking glad that he did.

With each bounce, he pushed you lower on his length, and he’d go by half-inches if it meant reaching heaven. Fucking you with the toy first was a brilliant idea. Even though you didn’t say it, he knew you came. That’s why you were struggling on his cock. That cute little cunt of yours was still spasming from your first orgasm. How could anyone be so tight and wet, he thought, and for him.

He sat back and watched as you kept riding him with frustration. Your sweet pussy nectar was pooling at the base, and the lewd sounds it made was music to his ears. But the sound of his balls slapping your cheeks would be even nicer.

“Good effort, princess, but you’re starting to look pathetic and needy and desperate. What?” He laughed, swiping his thumb along your pout. “It’s cute. Daddy’ll take care of you.”

He hoisted you off him with ease, giving you another reason to make your pussy throb. A part of you wanted to ask him to fuck you while standing or maybe against the wall. No! A small rational voice told you. Let’s see what he does first.

Laying you on the ground, he pushed your legs back with your ankles on his shoulders, exposing your cunt to cool air. It was slick and puffy from all the work you put in. Taking two fingers, Jason spread your lips so he could tease your clit. Each little movement made you twitch. 

Perfect, he thought. He knew how to get you where he wanted. The feeling of his thick, heavy tip rubbing your most sensitive spot made your toes curl as you huffed and moaned at his touch. Your hips pressed up in a weak attempt to slip it in. Your heels were nearly dangling off your feet from the movement.

“Since you want this cock so badly, I’ll give it to you, princess, but we’re doing it my way.”

Eagerly, you nodded. Your way, his way. It didn’t matter as long as he was in you.

Yet quickly you found out that you shouldn’t have agreed so readily. He moved impossibly slow.

“It’s a shame,” he tried to make small talk, one gloved hand carefully keeping the distance between you and his cock while the other balanced his weight above you, “that you chose to work for Cobblepot. How bout you work for me instead? Name your salary–I’ll double it. As a bonus, we can even fuck whenever you want.”

“You act as if I need your cock.” 

Ignoring your tone, Jason stated the obvious. You did. Your body practically melted in the carpet when he went completely in.

“Look how full you are. You think you can go back to your toys or another man’s cock after this? I ruined you, princess.” Instead of sounding remorseful, he was proud. “I bet in the days after, you’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout how empty you feel without me.”

You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of being right–his cock felt so good once you got through that first bit of discomfort–but there was no point in being stubborn. The Red Hood didn’t intend on having you hear him out. He was going to show you.

He fucked you as roughly as you imagined, using long strokes that left both of you breathless. There was something erotic about the sudden silence. There was only heavy breathing and moans, slick sounds and pounding.

And when you came, it was like the lights cut out, eyes squeezed shut for total darkness. The only electricity existed in his touch, sparking waves of pleasure throughout your body.

–

Uncertain if you actually dozed off or not, you woke up to a familiar mechanic hum. He had his helmet back on, his clothes back to their baseline level of grunge. Perhaps it was because of the intimacy you shared, but the Red Hood seemed far less threatening now compared to the start of the night.

“Don’t forget about the deal we made,” he told you, standing near your feet.

Like him, going back to how you normally were was easy now that lust no longer clouded your actions.

“And what if I don’t?” you asked, standing slowly from sore muscles. “Like you said earlier, I am a bad girl.”

“I’ve already planned for that.”

You tried to fix your dress to the best of your abilities. It was no use though. It was a poor victim of your decisions.

“Well, if that’s the case, expect another visit.” 

You stalled, letting the fabric fall as you tried to decipher his meaning behind the modulator. Was that a threat or a promise?

“And next time, I’m coming during office hours.”

You let the warm sensation of his cum sliding down your thighs decide for you.

Return to

Curated Masterlists

Jason Todd’s Masterlist

[saulocept]

sunrise boulevard

pairing: kenji sato/reader

rating: g

summary: After Mina’s “death”, Ken needs someone to fulfill the role of a babysitter.

And after your sudden unemployment, you need something to get you by.

It’s only through chance that the two of you manage to find each other.

notes: this is the first part of a mini-series ive been working on. a little on the shorter side. this was originally going to be longer, but i had to cut it since the other part didn't quite fit well with this. so uh. consider this as an introductory part?

parts: one (you are here)

No one ever tells you how hard it is to be unemployed at your age. Harder still when pretty much every person your age is living a good life, with houses of their own, and high-paying jobs they could brag about in their socials.

It’s not like any of this is your fault, not really. You weren’t always unemployed; things just sort of happened. In fact, you were a star employee, (or a former one, at least) in every sense of the word: you were never late, were never absent. You always wore your uniform properly, ironed the creases each night so they’d look more pristine than ever. You’d dealt with the customers perfectly, answered each of their queries as best as you can, leading them to the correct aisles when they couldn’t be bothered to find it themselves.

You’d maintained the place, kept it nice and spotless, sweeping off the floors and wiping off the counters. You’d probably done other stuff, too: fixed the light bulbs, cleaned the toilets, unclogged the sink, even repaired them when they weren’t working as intended – which was difficult work for someone not knowledgeable in such things like you were.

But you did all of them, anyway, without complaint, without hesitation.

And still, they fired you. No, not fired, but rather laid off – as they put it. Not like you can blame them anyway. The shop’s closed its doors a week after they fired you (again, laid off) which at least meant that they weren’t lying to you when they said they couldn’t afford to keep you employed any longer.

You’d be sad about it if you aren’t so busy trying to stay afloat. It’s not easy being back to square one, after all. It’s even harder to be on square one for months now.

It’s not like you aren’t trying your best either. You’ve pretty much applied everywhere by now, sent your resumes to companies and institutions, however large and small. You’ve even lurked on multiple sites, too, just to make sure you aren’t missing out on anything: Linkedin, Indeed – hell, you’ve even started to look for jobs at Craigslist, too, and even Facebook Marketplace, of all places, desperate for something, anything.

Not like you’ve ever had an array of skills to boast about. You know the basics, obviously, but you don’t have a doctorate degree, or some kind of Masters. You know a lot about kaiju; years of watching Godzilla at the orphanage with the other children had given you more knowledge about them than anything you could ever do with (Godzilla, mostly), but you know it’s not going to be of any help to you now.

Hell. You’re not even fluent in any language outside your own – no, wait, you’re a little fluent in Klingon, but that’s only because you’re a nerd as a kid. You doubt that’d be enough to impress anyone, but there’s no harm in putting that out there, right? Just in case.

Maybe you’d fool some employer out there who didn’t know any better. Or maybe you’d make one of them laugh.

So far, your efforts have all been for naught. There’s no response from anyone, from anything: no calls, no emails. No text messages. Nothing but radio silence, and obvious text scams trying to get you to shell out money you’ve never even had.

You exhale a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose as you take a sip of your coffee. Instant this time, and black, because you couldn’t afford a creamer and a sugar.

You blanch a little at the taste, but force yourself to swallow it down. You can’t afford to waste any more coffee, especially not when you need it to stay awake. It’s useless; you haven’t slept for a week straight now, enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll pass out any moment now, but you still haven’t given up hope.

You stare at the screen, rubbing your eyes once more. You could feel the thrum of your computer in front of you: rhythmic and steady, familiar and comfortable. It’s the only thing that’s been with you throughout all this fight, not once giving up on you despite its multiple issues: old age, outdated system, cracked screen, wonky keyboard – plus a whole bunch of other things you haven’t managed to discover.

You’ve been lurking at this site for a while now, something you’ve only managed to find by doing a thorough search on the internet, scouting for new job opportunities.

So far, there hasn’t been anything new, and you’re already close to giving up for the day and catching up on some sleep when there’s a sudden ping, nearly startling you out of your wits.

 Still, you know that could only mean one thing. With your heart hammering against your chest, you hit the refresh button, watch as the screen freezes for a few seconds before displaying the entire page again.

There’s a new entry at the top, posted just a few seconds ago. You lean your head forward, squinting, double-clicking on the post, skimming through the entire thing.

Looking for a kaiju babysitter. Experience not needed. Knowledge welcome, but not necessary. If interested, send an email to this address: baseballlover26@mail.com.

You raise an eyebrow at that, looking a little skeptical. A dummy email address, which already seems shady enough at first glance, but a kaiju babysitter? Now that’s new. You’ve only ever learned about kaiju in the movies, but you doubt they’d need a babysitter, especially when they seem even more capable than a regular human.

Could this be some sort of a code, then? A message hidden somewhere? You read the entry again, starting from the beginning, searching for hidden clues, but nothing comes to mind.

Curiously, you click on the person’s profile, still not feeling a little convinced. There’s no entry outside the one that you’d just read. Hell, there’s not even a description or anything of the sort. No name, not even a profile picture, which just makes the whole thing even more suspicious.

Is this some sort of a ruse to lure you into human trafficking? That feels very likely, considering the nature of the job (babysitting a kaiju? Seriously?), but it’s not like you’ve got anything to lose.

Free room and board? Hell yeah. At this point, you’ll take anything that offers a place to stay, especially if you don’t have to pay for it, no matter how dangerous it is. Beggars can’t be choosers after all, and you’d be damned if you let this all go to waste.

You flex your fingers, typing up a short email to the address, attaching your resume and your contact numbers, mentioning the fact that you know a little bit about kaiju­ as a postscript– which isn’t quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. If any of this were real, then perhaps, you’d be able to impress the person behind the post.

And if not… well. You’ll know for sure at least.

Without hesitation, you finally hit send. Now all that’s left for you to do is wait for a reply.

[scentedpepper]

Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. I | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Final Part

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None (?) see below

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader [not 'til pt. 2]

Author Note(s): Guys, let's note RE is a game where big monster throws you into wall and you eat herb to heal. This idea is very much so present here however, I wanted to incorporate some realism as well while still maintaining that superhuman feeling to y/n.

This is again targeted at male readers because they don't get enough attention BUT you can pretty much still read it despite your gender!!

This takes place AFTER the mission to rescue Ashley but not too long after.

There's pretty much no content warnings for this one other then like description of injuries.

Oh, also Luis is alive in pt.2 because I love him

You can't remember the last time in the past four months when you'd actually been able to breathe.

Every inhale had been choked with spores, filled with the odors of infection and death; every exhale had brought on chills, fearing what genetic monstrosity might rise up behind you.

You'd be a fool to think that sitting back in your cot, against a tree, some abandoned building wall or even within the warmth of DSO headquarters would grant you it. A deep inhale. A calming expansion of your lungs.

Because there was your partner, Leon S. Kennedy, butting his head. Like the virus scratching up your insides, clawing to the top until it etched its fingernails against the walls of your throat and brought upon a sharp, painful cough.

It's been nearly a year now. 10 months and a half. And you weren't sure if this was like the phase married couples went through where the adoration melted and was replaced by hot pits of lava and fire shooting out your mouth with every word or– well, there was no or. That just seemed to be where you and Leon sat, in limbo, glaring at each other from across the rope.

Only good thing about ropes was climbing them. Scaling it up to get the advantage, bring him down so you could win. Everything was a game with you two, always had been. Didn't know when it started but knew when the tension began to boil over.

Maybe you should've seen it. Hell, with the way you two complained to your superior for a partner switch –or rather no partner at all– you should've expected. Expected it like you expect a high-speed car to mangle your body after deliberately stepping into its path.

That's what it felt like sometimes with you two. A car crash.

When you first met, you were like two dull kitchen knives being pressed and sliced against each other until an edge formed. Sure, the rough, uncut, jagged edge hurt with every prick and prod but it was the start to a bond. And then you were learning to work the edges on each other's weapons to ensure a lethal and clean cut. —Until, you weren't.

He was civil enough in the beginning —and so were you.

But when things began to slip into that weird, unspoken comfortableness of having a missions partner. The one where you find yourself up shits creek together, bathing in lakes and rivers and showering under the rain together. The one where your hearts are sewn intricately within each others and the responsibility of one another's lives rest against your shoulders.

That one.

That's when things began to slowly unravel for you and Leon.

And now you were here.

Free falling from the side of a mountain.

Deeper and deeper.

Winding, swirling, spinning.

And you're grasping. Grasping for the rope like Leon is.

Your fingers graze it, trap it, and you fight to ignore the razor sharp burn of it against your palms.

But your body isn't stilling yet, and your grip isn't strong enough, and you're being slammed into the harsh rock of the mountain.

It falls again.

This happens two more times over.

And on the last, you're holding on for much, much longer and you almost believe you're stable when your eyes begin searching for your partner.

He's gone.

The ropes blowing in the wind.

He's gone.

Your eyes move rapidly, panicked but before you can do much of anything the wind catches up to you again and your body is crashing right back into the mountain side.

Upon collision, you lose your grip and you're plummeting.

You don't have time to think about your partner as your raw hand clamps down on the rope for the fourth time. Your red palms leave your life line stained and your grip slippery but the blood, or the wind, or the friction, or the speed, or even the rain isn't what sends you fumbling in the air like a baby bird this time.

There's a pop. A sick crunch.

You don't hear it over the rain and wind and the beat of your own heart.

But you feel it.

The pain isn't delayed. It's hot and sharp and sends an immediate chorus of curses from your mouth as your arm goes limp. No grip. Nothing.

You have nothing.

Your body is in gravity's hands. You can't reach the rope. And your right arm is flailing in the wind like a deflated balloon of some sort.

The trees come on quickly.

But for a long moment you stare at the wall you had so harshly collided into, disorientated, your body shifting and swaying with the rushing of the wind.

In another moment, you think there's hands on you.

Frantic and needing, fighting for balance, fighting to save you.

But they're only your own.

And you're ignoring the slight pain that slips through the pump of your adrenaline as you fight against the wind to grab your right arm and tuck it beneath your chest.

Your body curls in on itself, your head tucks into your knees and your free arm wraps around the top of your head, securing yourself into place.

For seconds that feel too long, there's nothing but the rush of wind in your ears and it's almost peaceful. Like floating, drifting, basking.

But then your body is crashing violently, violently through the trees, through a bunch of saplings. Your ears pick up on their snapping, crunching, –it's fleeting. Your body's slowing down considerably but the ground hasn't met you yet. The weight is shifting, your body is jerking and dipping destructively and suddenly, your stomach feels unsettled.

But then you go still. Completely.

The rain stops.

The wind stops.

It's for two seconds, maybe three. Then your ears cut back into reality and your eyes peel open and you find yourself on an enormous branch, right in the crook of its "elbow" so to say. Your body bounces up, nearly slips from the spot, but your left arm shoots out, tightens and your knuckles turn white.

It's not enough.

You're slipping.

Fingers dancing over the wet tree bark as you begin to lose your balance completely, unable to spread yourself out enough because of your hurt arm. You fight but you fall, landing hard on the next branch below. And the next one beneath it.

Violent coughs threaten to bubble through your throat with the impact but you push them down. Because right now pain is a good thing. Means that everything is alive.

Your back feels like it might snap in half if you hit one more branch. So you opt for your stomach and maybe then you can brace yourself, grab something, anything.

Your ribs make contact first. Your body twirls. Not an inch unscathed.

Again and again, you meet with the branches until you fear that it may never end.

But then there's warmth. It's enveloping you and for a moment you think it's your own blood. Or the air being knocked from your lungs when your body finally lands in its final resting spot.

No.

These arms...

"Reach, to the side!"

There it is.

A small bit of bark you can snatch.

You latch onto it, press yourself against the tree.

"Alright, I got you. " Leon whispers above you but it feels too far away as you allow your left arm to slacken, resting the rest of your weight on the tree.

"Shoulder?"

He's asking about the limp, near useless thing that was hanging by your side. You open your mouth to respond, not with much success. The movement nearly cuts it off.

"Yes..." The word forces itself out, strained and bitter. And then you're shaking your head and swallowing past the lump in your throat. "No, I think it's dislocated. "

"Can you manage?" His assessment of you is quick.

"I can't move it. " You spit out and your words are still breathless. Winded. With your face buried in the tree bark, one cheek against the cool, rough surface, you scoff, "Don't think 'm goin' anywhere. "

You want to laugh. But there's nothing funny about this. Just empty air and a thick heat that seems to be simmering between the two of you. The tension is threatening to spill.

"Stay here. "

His voice is too far. His weight is leaving your branch. And your fingers grab ahold of the fabric of his sleeve.

"Where're you going?"

Leon hesitates.

"Ada can help us. "

Your breath whips back into your body.

"Ada?" You question and your eyes are searching, really taking him in now. His form. The rain has soaked him. His breathing is just as heavy. His jacket has the largest tear down the side, the lining popping at the seams and tucked into his waistband is a hookshot. Adas.

"When the fuck did Ada get here?" Your tone is one of bewilderment as you stare at your partner and finally put together how he went so unscathed.

"Back on the mountain. "

"Shes been following us you?" You inquire.

"I didn't realize she was there until she was grabbing me out the air. "

"For a top agent, you got shit on her, Leon. "

It's out of your mouth in a hurry, a slap to the face. It's anger on your part. You turn your cheek against the tree and your eyes focus on the town, not Leon.

You hold grudges. Not that he knew the reason for this one.

He's silent for a moment, his anger seeping through it as he scans the surrounding area. Looking for Ada, no doubt.

But in a little voice he hums a retort.

"Could say the same thing for you. "

Your head snaps up, cheek no longer nursing the rough grooves and ridges in the bark.

"'Scuse me?”

He's quiet again.

"Oh, you don't have some bitch-ass comment to make?"

"Are we really fighting right now?" He looks at your with narrowed eyes and whip of emphasis on his tongue.

"I'm just speaking in a language I've only ever known with you. "

"What does that mean?" He says, turning his attention on you full now.

"Don't act all almighty, Kennedy. I've treated you a hell of a lot better than you have me. ”

"Oh, my bad. What am I? Your husband?" The annoyance is obvious. His voice grows sharp and jabs at your neck as if threatening to slit it. "Because the whole relationship rule to the game is when you see the one person you hate in this godforsaken town you fucking say it. "

You say nothing.

It strikes a chord in you. Rocks you.

But you light like gasoline at what he's referencing and you're opening your mouth again.

"I don't hate Luis. " You spit it out before your voice falls flat and its like a cool cord wrapping around his neck and choking him.

He makes a noise of bewilderment and his mouth falls open.

"I–" His words catch on his tongue as his adam's apple bobs in his throat.

His eyes search for yours, dark and boring into them with a burning intensity that nearly turns your insides out. Or maybe that's your adrenaline. You're not sure.

"I'm getting Ada. " It's final.

And then he's slipping down the tree without a sound. Just him. Your teeth grit into each other, hand clinging to the tree bark.

You and Leon. Tearing at each other like it's a five dollar shirt.

[multifandomslxt]

Nct 127 as fratboys Pt.1

I enjoyed this wayyyyyy too much lmaoo

Taeil

first off

baby he don't wanna be here lmaoooo

He don't even know how he got in a frat in the first place

he majors in one of three things

comp sci

finance

or accounting (Yes finance and accounting are different)

Taeil wouldn't be your typical frat boy

he's definitely turning his assignments in on time

and he is never

and I mean NEVER up for a party

but allows it to happen anyway

however, if its finals season...

He is the one who shuts the party down when the clock touches 12

"Everyone get the fuck out! You have exams in a few hours"

The father of the frat honestly

He's pretty laid back and doesn't bother anyone

Some would think that he doesn't get laid either but c'mon now

he fucks around ALOT!

Don't let him fool you

Has had a threesome multiple times

but don't tell anyone I told you that

He hates the parties but always gets 4-5 BJs at each

and guess what y'all

if you fuck him

NO ONE WILL KNOW!

he won't brag about it and he won't tell a soulllll

If his friends are eyeing someone he's been with b4

and they ask him about her

trust and believe this man won't say a word

he'll shrug and be like "Ion know"

ughhh and he pulls easily too

Usually he beats around the bush

but always makes it clear he doesn't want anything serious

all in all he's a sneaky and quiet fratboy

lol

Johnny

Yeah...

everybody knows about this bitch right here

He is a business major.

Period

do not question the facts

doesn't give too much fucks about his grades though

as long as he gets a degree after this shit

he's good.

He would be known as the irresistible heartbreaker

cuz he WILL pull you in

and then drop you after he fucks.

I'm just being honest here y'all lmaoo

He is THE life of the party

like if a party is happening and he ain't there...

it's gonna be lame asf

He and Jaehyun are notorious for making their coma-inducing

jungle juice

Surprisingly he has a good fashion sense for a frat boy

oh and he definitely comes from a rich family

so yk he's driving his car around blasting

Drake and Tyga

Smokes hella w33d btw

like I'm not even joking

his circle clean as hell though

vibes are always through the roof

He fucks every other day

and everybody knows he does

why?

because he posts about it on social media

yup.

i said it.

He would definitely tag your ass too

so if yk you don't like the inanet knowing

that your- in his words- "pum pum wetter than the ocean"

then leave this man alone

lmaoooo

overall a menace and a jerk- typical fratboy (I'm sorry I wanted him to be sweet too lol)

Taeyong

He's a nerd.

I'm sorry but Taeyong does not belong in a frat 😭 jk k

but

He 100% has his legos displayed in his room

like don't even say it's not true

His idea of a fun time is spending hours building a lego set

He's definitely a communications major

maintains a relatively good gpa

so he's ight.

And a ladies man

Oh yupp

Everyone who has his twitter sees his posts about pussy eating.

And lemme tell you something

Bitches have lined up in front of the frat to get eaten out by this man

ya hear me???

And he brags about it on the dl

would be notorious for attending 2-3 parties for the semester tho

why?

his legos.

he NEVER has a shirt on

I swearrrrrr

he also smokes w33d with Johnny sometimes

but doesn't do it often bcz it tends to fuck him up a bit too much

can't roll one to save his life lmao

in terms of fucking he only does it when he's stressed

Did a threesome with Taeil once

He's the type to stare you down from some creepy ass dark corner at a party if he finds you hot.

He's definitely not the type to just tell anyone that he ate you out or fucked you randomly

but if one of his friends were to ask him

he's telling it all and giving you a rating outta 10.

for your sake

you betta hope he don't give you anything below 6.

[snootlestheangel]

Was so close to making a vent post but I'm going to continue to do that thing where I keep it to myself and instead I'm gonna project onto a fictional character

Ghost is the worst at dealing with burn out.

They all get burnt out at some point, it's inevitable in their career of choice.

But the others are able to handle it pretty well.

Price knows how to step back and delegate a few little things to others, to take a step back and let other people deal with certain problems. He knows when to pick a battle and when to let something slide. He knows when to take some time off and when to find quiet time for himself on base.

Soap knows how to slow down. He knows how to ease himself out of doing as much as he does so he doesn't run out of what little energy he has left. He knows how to admit he can't do something right now, and he's not ashamed to admit it.

Gaz knows his limits, and he knows how to respect them. He knows that when he's burnt out he can't even consider pushing himself. He knows that once he hits his limit, he needs to stop. And he knows how to start small and build his way back up.

They all know that burn out is inevitable and that's okay, and they all need a little help sometimes.

And Ghost technically knows this too.

But he's been Ghost for so long, he's almost forgotten that the rules of humanity still apply to him.

He's been burnt out for so long he doesn't even remember what normal functioning is supposed to look like.

He's forgotten that something like eating or showering shouldn't be a chore, but he's grown so accustomed to fighting himself to get these little tasks done.

He's forgotten what it feels like to be rested and not tired.

For him, it always feels like it's just one thing after another. Never a time to fully heal, never a time to fully rest. He's always wounded, always tired, always struggling to just make it through another day.

He's grown so numb so why does everything still hurt? Is he really that broken, so broken that he's beyond hope for repair?

Was it Roba?

Or his father?

Because surely if there was a creator, they wouldn't be so cruel as to make him this way by design.

It's gotten to the point that even loving Soap feels hard. Not in the sense of it feels like a chore, but in the sense of he feels so ill-equipped to maintain a relationship. He knows it takes communication, time, and effort for any relationship, but he feels he just doesn't have it. He wants to just sometimes sit and simply stop existing for a bit, to let his mind and body process everything over the years of his life, to give him a chance to know what the hell is going on.

But he doesn't get it.

And he doesn't understand why he keeps getting out of bed.

Why should he care so much? Why does he care so much? When did he care so much?

He doesn't understand why or how he's crawling out of bed and into clean clothes for the day. He doesn't understand how he's still functioning well enough to have conversation with the team, to make little jokes here and there, to make plans.

He doesn't understand how he's still able to do everything he does without simply collapsing.

He feels so empty, like a husk, a shell of what he's supposed to be.

A performative skeleton dancing around, biding its time until it collapses.

But most of all, he doesn't understand how no one seems to see it. How no one has noticed the way his body seems to droop as if simply holding himself up is a challenge.

Doesn't understand how Johnny can look him in the eye and smile at him like he's hung the bloody stars and not see the despair weighing him down.

And maybe an unmarked grave is all he needs. A place where he'll be left undisturbed, unburdened, and laid to rest.

He's just tired.

[moonjxsung]

hi there!! I hope you're doing well and that you're able to get some rest in between those requests (I think it's good you've closed them since no one wants you to burn out)

i had a suggestive lino thought and I thought I'd dump it here since this blog seems like it's a safe space but please don't feel obligated to comment or anything!

just imagine husband!Minho who's had a tiring few weeks at work. He's was deprived of your touch in all that time, mostly due to bad timing (I.e.: he comes home too late and y/n is asleep or he's too tired, etc.). Minho has a work party coming up (that is being hosted in the comfort of your home) and as his wife, you've decided to tease him, rile him up as much as you can the week of the work party.

Just picture husband!Minho who's slowly losing his mind as his wife moans as she bites into the breakfast they'd ordered. husband!Minho who's convinced his wife wants to him dead when she riles him up the morning of a big meeting only to leave him high and dry. husband!Minho who's finally caught onto the games his darling wife has been playing when she "accidentally" grazes his crotch one time too many before rushing off to get ready for the party.. husband!Minho who notices the way his wife looks for his reaction as her hand lingers a second too long on his colleague's arm and refuses to indulge her. husband!Minho who finally loses it when he notices an investor, eying his beautiful wife as she bends down to pick up her phone that had fallen. husband!Minho who pulls you away from everyone and takes you to your shared room. husband!Minho who has you against the door almost immediately, attacking your lips like a man starved at sea. husband!Minho who leaves pretty marks scattered along your shoulder blades, your collar bones, up your throat, everywhere, his claim to you visible. husband!Minho determined to make sure everyone knows how good only he can make you feel. husband!Minho who strokes your clit, nice and slow, as you clench around his tongue. husband!Minho who laps up all your sweet juices as you cum all over his face. husband!Minho who keeps a bit of you in his mouth for you to taste when your tongue clashes against his. husband!Minho who stretches you out ever so diligently whilst his head is buried in your cleavage. husband!Minho who brings you to the edge twice with only his fingers but husband!Minho only granting you release when youre a whining mess for him. husband!Minho who finally fucks you against the door so hard - it's a wonder the door does not fall off its hinges. husband!Minho smirking proudly as you reach your climax with him, screaming his name. husband!Minho who helps clean you up, being so gentle with you after. husband!Minho who places loving kisses of every inch of your face and tells you sweetly how well you did. husband!Minho offering to go back to the guests sooner so you can rest. husband!Minho who can tell who at the party most definitely heard, bemused at their inability to maintain eye contact. husband!Minho who can't hide the satisfaction when you later rejoin the party, slight wobble in your gait. just husband!Minho who simply enjoys making it known to the world that he is your husband.

Hey anon I just had an out of body experience reading that what the hell and what the fuck I need husband Minho RIGHTTTT NEOWWWWW……… thank you for sharing with the class I genuinely gasped out loud

[highonakuweeds]

Random Hazbin Men Headcanons

I couldn't help myself.

ALASTOR

He does have a tail, yes; that’s the reason why his coat is super flared out. It’s a wonder people haven’t seen it yet.

Well, it’s either the fact no one has seen it or he just brutally murders those who have already seen it

It doesn’t wag when he’s happy, though; he’s not a dog. Or rather, he can control it when he’s happy since it’s always slow. When he’s panicking or stressed, however, that’s a different story

It is sensitive. Please do not pull on it because it’s still connected to his spine and that shit hurts. Curling your finger along its fur seems to be okay, though

Ears are more sensitive than his tail. Because of their fluffy nature, just grazing a fingertip near the inside of his ears make them twitch.

Yes, it tickles.

He would never admit the fact that scratching the base of them feels more relieving than it should.

Actually had curly/wavy-ish hair when he was alive, and was devastated when he realized Hell permanently straightened his hair. He was grateful his hair maintained its volume, though

VOX

Most probably knows how to cook and clean and do all of that housework bullshit because of Vel and Val. They would never shut up about the fact that he couldn’t do that before

Is genuinely really good at baking. One of his guilty pleasures

Would spoil the people he feels close to (i.e., Vel, Val, and when they were still in contact, Alastor)

Knows deep down that he will never actually beat Alastor, but forces himself to believe otherwise because why would he give the stupid deer demon that satisfaction???

Despite the fact the man is literally all about modern technology bs, he barely knows what goes on in the less political/economic side of media. He only knows some things because of Vel and Val

Whether it be on purpose or not, like half of his mannerisms stem from looking up at Alastor before.

Genuinely loves electric swing and jazz just like Al (it was a coincidence), but since people associate those two genres with the Radio demon, he pretends to hate it and adore dubstep

He loves dubstep, too; he just hated the fact he had to like it because he didn’t want to be associated with Al (even if he made a whole song about him)

Would rather wear quiet luxury than extravagant clothing but he loves seeing people’s faces when they gawk at the amount of expensive shit he has

SIR PENTIOUS

Filthy rich. Unironically. HE BOUGHT A WHOLE CRATE FULL OF CARMILLA’S WEAPONS; ISN’T THAT SHIT EXPENSIVE???

One of his hobbies is doodling, and is actually really good at it

When he was alive, he probably had the most luscious, silk, gorgeous hair you’d ever seen. But then he probably had to cut it all off

Crawled on the ground for the first couple of months since his drop into Hell bc he couldn’t figure out his tail

He could make the most intimidating and dangerous machine in just a couple minutes but would struggle with a rubix cube. 

VAL

Drawing, I’m pretty sure, is a canon hobby of his so I just imagine him studying Vox’s face and body to understand his weird ass proportions

You already know what his horny ass was thinking when he tried studying Vox’s lower body

Almost fried his brain trying to understand Vox’s TV screen

Usually his anatomy is incorrect with his shitty eyesight

Loves bold luxury

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: swears, SMUT no one under 18 read this please, i.e., rough sex

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ

Jax decided to drive both of you over to his place, pick the boys up and go to the park. You agreed, because … you didn’t really know what the boys liked to do. Jax found your anxiety a tiny bit humorous, only because you were so riled about it.

    “I mean, what if I say … the wrong thing and they hate me forever? I don’t want to be the evil stepmother!” You said while the two of you got dressed.

 “Babe, they’re not gonna think of you like that. I promise,” he said and gave you a peck on the cheek. Rolling your eyes, you zipped up your boots and went to feed your own two boys. They were waiting patiently at their bowls, both tails wagging when you made their food.

   With Jax in the shower, your mind wandered to all the things that could happen. Fuck, what if one of them gets hurt on my watch? You thought while placing the silver bowls on the ground.

You weren’t expecting things to go well. That’s just how your mind worked sometimes, okay ... all the time. Low expectations meant you couldn’t get hurt. That whatever went wrong was bound to happen anyway. Basically, you were a supporter of Murphy’s Law.

You were already dressed and waiting on Jax. So, you decided to do a bit of tidying up, which turned into cleaning and when Jax came out of the bathroom, he saw you with two gloves on, heavily scrubbing the benches.

   “Babe! It’ll be okay. They’re just kids-“ Jax had your face in his hands as he spoke, so you had nowhere else to look but in his eyes. Eyes that seemed to look straight through you. To see everything you were feeling.

It made your stomach flip. He truly believed his sons would somehow adore you. Just as he did. Oh, the folly of men.

You rode over to Jax's place on his bike and the whole way there you couldn't stop panicking. Children frightened you a little, but what you didn't realise was that Jax could feel your heartbeat through his back.

And at one point, he lightly slapped the side of your thigh. It was his way of trying to get you out of your own mind.

The ride felt shorter than usual and as you hopped off the bike and undid the helmet, you followed Jax up to the house. It was just like any other house. It was middle-class; clean, and well-maintained, even the lawn had been mowed. The mailbox stuck out to you, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was because of how weird a biker in a gang would have such a normal, everyday, and mundane … thing. It wasn’t rusting or chipping either...unlike yours.

   With one knock to the door, Jax opened it and went inside. With you right behind him, he squeezed your hand once and went to find his boys.

Oh fuck, okay here we go, you thought, looking around the place. Hell, it was clean. Cleaner than your own home. Well, Jax would have hired a cleaner, or at least, Gemma would have. But if you ever moved in with him, would you still keep the cleaner around? Would Gemma still come around as often?

It was these weird thoughts that sometimes kept you up at night. Were they stupid thoughts? Over the top? Were you thinking too far ahead? Calm down, you thought to yourself. And tapped your thigh right where Jax had before.

  Your mind was snapped out of its cage when you heard the sound of heels on tiles. Holding a breath, you saw ...that Wendy wasn’t there. Unbeknownst to you, Jax had had a conversation with her the night before. It wasn’t a fun one either. But he did make things clear, as well as assure Wendy that her boys weren’t being taken from her.

  Gemma stood there with her arms crossed. Was she glowering at you? No, no she was sizing you up. Once again.

   “The way you handled Wendy the other night was pretty badass, Zoe.”

Some people would see that as a compliment but there was something sour in her words.

Before you could reply, Jax came out with two blonde-haired boys.

Abel and Thomas were hesitant as they clung to their father. All three had blonde hair, and the thought made you smile. For a split second, you wondered what coloured hair your baby with Jax would be, but instantly you scolded yourself. Don’t think so far ahead! you thought.

Abel was the easiest one to get along with, all you had to do was ask him about his toys and off he was, running around his house trying to drag you along, showing you all the different rooms and what he used them for.

   “And in that one we do number ones and number twos,” he said brightly while pointing to the toilet.

  “Whew, that’s good to know,” you responded with a laugh. Jax howled with laughter, while carrying Thomas close to his chest. Jax held onto Thomas, who didn’t want to leave his father’s arms. Not because he didn’t like this new stranger, no, he’d been around strangers all the time. It was just that right now he got all his father’s attention. Finally.

   “Isn’t that right, daddy?” Abel said with such innocent eyes.

“Absolutely,” Jax huffed, and scruffed his son’s hair.

   But he wasn’t done. Once Abel got someone’s attention, he had to keep it.

“And this…” he swung open the door, “is my bedroom!” He opened his arm in a ‘ta-da’ kind of way and then ran to his bed and jumped on it.

   “Woah man,” you said. Trying your best to be as interested as possible. And it was interesting to see the little knick-knacks in the toddlers room. It was blue, with shelves full of photos and race cars. And a LOT of miniature toy bikes.

   Jax followed you guys in and took in the picture before him. The three people he loved most in this world. His two beautiful boys. And the woman he’d been waiting for.

  “Hey, you guys wanna go to the park?” Jax said and both the boys screamed “yes!” Even Thomas let his excitement show.

Fuck Murphy’s Law, you thought. The sun was shining, warming everyone’s skin, not a cloud in the sky. The playground was empty except for the four of you, who were currently in a very serious game of tips. Abel was it, and he had to tap the closest person so then they would switch. In a child’s mind it was perfectly logical. But explaining it to Thomas was a bit of a challenge. He was just happy to cling to Jax.

  Whenever you looked over at Thomas, he buried himself further into his father’s chest. Almost covering himself with the kutte. God, if you weren’t seeing a lot of Jax, then these poor boys barely saw him. A pang of guilt hit you in the chest and you felt a little sick. You hadn’t even thought about the boys and what Jax meant to them.

“No, no ah!” You yelled as you ‘ran away’ from Abel (you couldn’t help but go easy on the kids. If it were with other adults … then your competitive nature would send you overboard.)

  Abel’s tanned arm reached out and tugged at your shirt. “Got you! Got you!” He screamed in delight, his little mouth curling in a big smile.

    “Zo is it!” Thomas babbled, giggling near his dad. The first time he acknowledged you. It made you beam. Maybe this was the reason people had kids … for some validation.

Looking at both boys, you curled your fingers, and you did your worst evil laugh. Abel screeched happily, jumping to the upper level, and running to the slide. Jax held Thomas’ hand and slowly ran away from you, hiding between the swings.

    “Ohhh, I’m gonna get you!” You said to Jax, who looked at you with a sly grin.

“I would like to see you try-“ he replied, trying his best to hold in a smile. Being suave wasn’t actually that easy. Especially while playing tips.

  But you took off, and without even moving, Jax let you jump onto his back and down to the ground. Abel and Thomas screamed in pure excitement.

   The little boys piled on top of you two, squealing and giggling, they could barely stay on top because they were so small.

    “We got you Dad!” Abel said, holding onto your back.

“Yeah, we dot you!” Thomas echoed, giving his father a kiss on the face.  He was going to be the sweetest thing on earth. You just knew.

Your things were sitting on the park bench not that far from the playground. But Jax didn’t hear his phone ring. He placed it in your bag and actually forgot about it.

   For once he wanted not to be interrupted, to have time true family time. Because he learnt from his past. And wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

  But that meant he missed a call. Well, a few calls actually. Ones that would change the course of club business.

  On the drive back home, you looked at Jax and spelled out “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?” He only responded with a deep belly laugh.

   “Yeah, I reckon we can do that.”

By the time the boys arrived home, their faces were covered in icecream and sprinkles. Much to Gemma’s dismay.

   “God, now they’re gonna be running on the roof,” she said with a huff. But you knew it was an act. She loved that the boys were spending time with their father.

   “It’s alright Ma, I’ll clean them up.”

“Yeah I know you will,” she said like a whip. Her hands on her hips as she led the four of you inside. She ran the bath, and although the boys were filthy, they both whined.

   “C’mon, Zo loves baths,” Jax said, adding bubbles and toys to the tub.

“Y-yeah, I do! They’re great!” You said enthusiastically, doing your best to persuade the two little grubs to get clean. They looked like the lost boys from Peter Pan.

  When the tub was full enough, the boys still wouldn’t get in. Both with crossed arms (Thomas just copying his brother), they refused.

     “I bet,” you said with an idea in your head, ”that you’ve never had a bath with your clothes … on.”

And their eyes lit up.

   Gemma rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I mean a bath is a bath right?” You said to Jax, who looked at you with raised brows.

    “I mean … yeah.”

After the boys were cleaned, Gemma was almost adamant that the two of you leave. You could feel the ownership radiating off of her.

  Like leaving a lioness’ den, you got on the bike and Jax took you home. Gemma watched as you two sped off, and when she turned to go back inside, you could have sworn her tail followed.

  When Jax dropped you home, he finally looked at his phone. You could see the concern on his face, but something in you told you to back off. To give him some privacy. Hey, maybe it wasn’t club business for all you knew. Maybe it was a big day for him as well.

Barely giving you a kiss, he waited for you to walk inside and sped off.

The club business had Jax fired up. And when he got to your place, he harshly knocked on the door, then started pacing back and forth.

   “Coming,” you called, slipping on your pajama pants. Reaching the door, you yanked it open and saw a frazzled Jax Teller.

   “Shit,” you said plainly.

“Yeah, shit,” he said darkly.

Moving aside, he stalked in and did not take a seat.

  “Do you want a drink?” You said letting the door click closed.

“I- I don’t know,” he started pacing again, and you realised you were seeing the real Jax. The one that no one else saw. The one who did all his thinking by himself.

   “Yeah, I know what you need,” you said slightly wide-eyed. Half of you was worried for Jax, and the other half was … excited. Excited that your relationship had progressed to letting each other see one’s breakdown.

In the kitchen cabinet sat a heavy glass bottle of brown liquor. It was something that Skeeter had made at home. You tried it before, and one glass was the equivalent to four standard drinks.

Getting out your nicest drinking glass, you put in a few ice cubs and two shots of the liquor. Before closing the lid, you took a swig and scrunched your face in reaction. That shit was strong.

    “Here,” you said and sat down. Finally, he followed your lead.

For some reason, it was only now that he could take a deep breath. When you handed him the glass, Jax’s fingers lingered over your own, needing to feel your touch. It was then that he started to calm down. Down a step, then another.

 Jax drained the glass and looked at you with the hunger of a wild animal. Pure lust in his blue, glowing, eyes. Heat travelled from your face, down your neck and in between your thighs. Fuck.

  Prowling over to you, Jax picked you up with ease and laid you on the carpet floor. Your long hair now a messy crown around your head, the tv became background noise, as Jax became mesmerising in his pursuit of pleasure.  

Biting down on your neck, he claimed you as his. With his hands clutching you tight, moving your top further upwards, he kissed at the exposed flesh. Groaning at your taste. The smell of you turned him on, let alone how you looked, how you walked and talked. The whole of you was like a need for him. Sustenance, nourishment; he needed you.

 It was as if you both had that same thought. Jax needed Zo. And it was a race to have all of you.

With swift movements, he pushed your clothes from your body, grabbed ahold of you, and twisted you around. With your face to the ground, he pushed down your pants and ground against your bare ass.

   “Jax,” you whispered and in response all he did was growl. Fuck, you thought. You weren’t with Prince Charming tonight. He wrapped his hand around your neck and with his lips, pulled on your earlobe.

  Jax let go of you, only to undo his pants, and you started to move. But as quick as lightning, he pushed you back to the floor.

    “Don’t fucking move,” he roared and the heat between your legs turned to slick.  

 In a split second you were completely naked. You could feel the roughness of his beard between your legs, the warmth of his hands rubbing your thighs, his mouth was everywhere. All you could do was lay there, doing your best to slowly arch your ass closer and closer to his cock.

 Tonight Jax was full of aggression, of rage, of … tension. And he needed you. He hadn’t planned on having you face down on the ground, ass in the air. Such a pretty ass, he thought. And slapped it hard.

   “Ah!” You flicked your head towards him and your eyes grew red. Raising an eyebrow, he inclined his head.

  “No?” He grumbled. His voice was lower than usual. Gravelly, hoarse.

“Yes,” you said in a command. And an evil grin spread across his face. Within moments, your ass was red raw and it made your cunt even more sensitive.

    Seeing you in that position made Jax want to touch every part of you. His hands gripped your cheeks and spread them apart. You knew his face was centimetres away from your core because you could feel his hot breath against it.

  If it was any other night you would say something, but all you dared do was whine.

     “Shhhh,” he cooed, swiping his nose against the exposed flesh. Licking your folds, toying with your clit with one of his fingers.

  “You want me to fuck you?” He asked, almost entranced.

“Yes,” you whispered, and tried to move backwards, so his face was flush against you. At that, he laughed. But a hard hand slapped your ass again and you cried out.

    “I know you want me to fuck you…” and then his mouth was sucking on your cunt, his nose gliding up and down. “I know you do…” he murmured against you.

The tension in stomach was tightening and tightening, but you didn’t want to cum without him inside of you.

  “Jax-“ you whined, trying to get his attention. But he hands were firmly planted on your hips, his face completely buried in your ass, his fingers in your pussy, his mouth moving everywhere.

    “I’m gonna-“

“I know,” and then he undid his pants and let his hard cock spring free.

It didn’t start off slowly like it had the first time. No, this time around Jax was rough. He plunged himself into you, thrusting hard; in and out, in and out. The sound of his balls slapping your ass filled the room but you were too hazy to be embarrassed.

  “G-god,” you moaned loudly, letting his body pound into your own. Jax’s body was practically on top of yours, one hand around your throat, and the other around your middle, thrusting into you erratically.

“Fuck.” 

     “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

    “What was that about.”

“The deal went through babe, I’m sorry – wait I didn’t hurt you did I?” Jax got up from the floor to look you over. Only a few hickies on your neck and breasts. Well, and some on your thighs.

 But you only laughed, a glint in your eye. Having his kneeling body right next to you was a sight to behold. Tanned all over, his hair messed, muscles bulging (may or may not have been flexing). He looked like a god. But to you, he was only a prince. Your prince.

   “I’m fine, Prince Charming, now go get me a blanket, I’m cold.”

“As you wish,” he said and got up, his cock dangling between his legs. You almost gasped. Yes, you were a mature grown woman, but seeing the male form always gave you a little shock. Especially a male form that had been inside you.

“I gotta talk to you about somethin’,” Jax’s voice was heavy and your stomach twisted.

    “…yeah?” You looked up at him and he sighed.

“I have to leave again, not as long as last time though. But I leave tonight.”

  You groaned and flopped back onto the floor. You had only just gotten him back.

“Hey baby,” he said with a smirk on his face, “at least you have somethin’ to masturbate over now.”

[dwreader]

interior design insp/references dubai edition

Just like with Louis's wardrobe in Dubai I feel like there's a lot of misconception about the design of the penthouse and what it's meant to represent. First of all, dark modern was and still is super popular design style amongst the wealthy!! It's a very popular way to style large open spaces (like a penthouse apartment). Light and airy designs are usually intended to reflect more natural light to make your rooms look bigger but when you already have a MASSIVE space that's kind of unnecessary. Also it doesn't need to be said that these are vampires so enhancing natural light with bright wall colors/furniture is utterly irrelevant and quite frankly counterproductive to them. You would rarely see a very dark design in a tiny apartment though, that's why its popular mainly among the super wealthy in their mega penthouses or modernist mansions.

Black furniture also screams lux because it's a PAIN in the ass to maintain like lint, dust, grime, etc gets everywhere constantly so by purchasing black furniture you're pretty much announcing to your guests that you have a maid who cleans for you cause your rich ass sure as hell isn't dusting that shit every day.

While the overall aesthetic of Dubai I would say is highly modern, there are interesting touches that suggest a couple that has collected items through time. In the first screenshot, you see Daniel and Louis sitting in the ultra modern living space while Armand is off to the side at his very mid-century chair, a very early hint that he's maybe from a different time.

Looking at this shot, you can see as many as 4 different design styles in a single frame. The table is clearly ornate traditional, the chair (which looks like rattan or bamboo) is more mid-century/boho and the japanese garden, and finally a little pink modern organic henri dejeant lamp. It's such a perfect representation of how long Loumand have been alive and together cause its normal for couples to accumulate different pieces over the course of their lives together and try to fit them in even though they don't exactly match the current designs. But this is what happens when you've been together for 75 years!

It's also interesting to see how the design choices of the penthouse evolved because an earlier visualization had a green mario bellini couch instead of a dark grey/black. The bellini couch was a 70's design that made a huge comeback in the last couple years, which is like the WHOLE 2nd interview like someone from the 70s who has entered the picture again after a long absence. However, I bet they probably pulled back on the bellini couch cause it was becoming overdone although it is still mega expensive (comes in at around $20k) but it's kind of become one of those ughh not that shit again kind of item.

[venomroses]

thinking about disability in the zones. like yeah yeah everyone's heard the "fun ghoul has adhd" headcanons which of course are all well and good but like. there are two things ive been thinking about specifically that i rarely see in danger days content that i think would be fairly common:

one. vision problems. think of how many people you know who wear glasses/contacts. think of how many more strangers you see on the street who are wearing glasses. there's a lot of people! and even if you leave the city with your glasses, lots of people need new prescriptions every few years. my glasses from even only 2 or 3 years ago are absolutely unusable for me because my vision has changed that much. and i doubt even if you do manage to find some random pair of glasses you'll want them- wearing a prescription thats too weak or too strong is uncomfortable as hell and really isn't that much of an improvement. even if you stick with it long enough for it to be tolerable it strains your eyes horribly. when i was little i would need new glasses before my family's insurance would cover it for us and i'd have eye strain headaches several nights a week for months until i could get new ones. a lot of things in the zones are set up to be low vision accessible

two. amputees. and not "they're an amputee but they have an android body part that works exactly like their natural body part so its fine". i don't have any personal experience with this the way i do with glasses but think about how common amputation was as a means of fixing a serious and/or infected wound before modern medicine. if you don't know it was pretty common especially during wars like the american civil war because infections were hard to prevent (if water was scarce and you couldnt wash your hands/tools/etc, if the disinfectants you had weren't effective enough, etc) and harder to treat (before antibiotics, again if you're unable to keep things clean, etc), wounds could be hard to treat especially if supplies were limited/there were lots of injuries to tend to, etc. there are shortages of all sorts of supplies in the zones but there's no shortage of weapons and it's easier to just cut an infected/injuried limb off than it is to spend tons of time and carbons searching for what you need (if you even know what you need, not everyone is a well-trained medic) while your crewmate is dying. most killjoys have met at least one amputee before. i've talked a little before about how i think a lot of killjoys would travel on foot because of how much work it is to maintain a car so a lot of people who own cars or motorbikes are lower limb amputees who can't walk long distances (because even a well fitted prosthetic irl can be uncomfortable for long distances or in general, so i can't imagine one handmade in the zones would be much more comfortable. and thats if you even have a prosthetic at all)

[hb-writes]

Suits Writing Prompt List (S1E1 - S1E5)

With Suits now available on Netflix, I've been re-watching so here's a list of lines from the show to use as prompts for your writing (for any fandom).

"You just have to formally ask. Then, after that, why don't you formally ask Santa Claus to bring you a pony because I'm not leaving [them]."

"Truth is, I do it for the children."

"That's why I love you...you get me."

"Look, I'm just trying to ditch the cops, okay? I don't care if you let me in or not."

"What? I like to read."

"Good. You've hit on me. We can get it out of the way that I am not interested."

"You know what nobody likes? Nobody likes a showoff."

"You put your interests above mine and I'm just putting mine back up next to yours."

"I'd explain it to you, but then I'd have to care about you."

"Marry me?" "Took care of that, too. We've been married for the last seven years."

"For the record, I am not selfish everywhere."

"I failed...to not be awesome."

"I'm glad to see staying up all night doesn't make you act like a complete idiot."

"I'm not an idiot. Don't treat me like one."

"Promise me now that the only way you'll leave is if they rip you out."

"Tell me what happened right now...I'm the guy you tell."

"I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you or not, but I do know we're even."

"Maybe it's time I started trusting somebody else."

"Would you admit it? You care about me."

"I wouldn't move your things into Wayne Manor just yet."

"That’s the adult table in there and you haven’t earned the privilege yet."

"You keep talking and I’m going to start billing you. And my time runs $1,000 an hour."

"I know I just posed that as a question, but I really didn't mean it that way."

"If you're gonna screw me, I guess it's only fair that you call me by name.

"You smell papery."

"Your face is red. It looks like you've been in the sun."

"Look at me...look at me."

"We talked about this, right? Barging into my office..."

"He put a gun to your head and made you smoke pot."

"Do we need to have a conversation about how you keep interrupting me?"

“He’s just a kid. Are you trying to steal his soul before he hits puberty?”

“I’m emotionally attached to me.”

“I’m not the topic of this conversation.”

“Get it through your head. First impressions last.”

“That kid is an anchor. You need to cut him loose.”

“Gloating’s fine. You just have to not suck at it.”

“Wow. Have you ever considered writing for Hallmark?”

“I’d be happy to tell you if you put that wrench down.”

“You trying to look like me?”

“That’s one thing you definitely get…how to ruin it.”

"Who doesn't like me?"

"Who's picking on you now?"

"We had a deal that you were going to stay out of it."

"Mm...you need me to class you up a bit."

"Sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you then."

"We're married. It's a long story."

"Emotion is fine but you better have some cold hard facts to back it up."

"I'm just here to watch. I love spectator sports."

"How am I doing for my first time?"

"Tell me that wasn't worth missing your lunch hour for."

“You don’t know the lyrics, do you?”

“So what is this a new cologne or just a hint of jealousy?”

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You’re the one person I knew would show up.”

“Why the rush now? You’ve already wasted 10 minutes of my life.”

“If she asks any questions just nod your head and look pretty.”

“Please don’t make me set fire to your desk.”

“You don’t send a puppy to clean up its own mess.”

“You are so beautiful when you’re forceful.”

“I don’t appreciate limitations being placed on my beauty.”

“I’m not some token you win at a fair.”

“Where are we?” “Uh…I think we’re in Hoboken.”

“I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I don’t want to.”

“He is an anchor dragging you down. Get rid of him.”

“Just because you think I’m blowing something off doesn’t mean I am.”

“What color was the light?”

“Don’t say anything. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Tell me what the hell’s going on.”

[chou-de-chambers]

Monsieur's Request

Content Rating: Explicit (NSFW) Tags: Chamber x Reader, Chamber x You, Reader is a Valorant agent, Reader is non-Radiant, fem!reader, smut, eventual smut, sexual tension, size difference, making out, hickeys, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, porn with context (?), use of french, no beta we die like cinematic Cypher This is my first time writing smut, so beware! Also, I am open to comments and recommendations. Thanks! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Your week-long mission to inspect the ruined teleporters of Everett-Linde Research Facility was almost to its fruition. All it needed was Killjoy's expertise with technology and the superiors' conclusion, which would be due tomorrow. For now, the objective is to check yourself and Chamber in a room to stay for the night. Brimstone was unable to give both of you a ride back to headquarters given that you still had one more day left for the mission, unlike the others who were abruptly demanded to return for other duties. "We'll meet you there by noon," was the last voicemail you heard from your leader. You sighed. Camping was out of the option since it's just the two of you left, and it's riskier taking that route, so there was nothing you could do but endure a night's stay with him in an inn.

You heard him sigh from dismay as you both entered the room. Everything to his sight was cheap- mediocre. The ambience wasn't as extravagant as he was usually accustomed to, especially as a designer. Not even a hint of gold to the whites to at least fake luxury. Everything was washed black, brown, and green. Like swamp to his eyes. You didn't mind it, though. What's important was that you have your own bed and cabinet.

With exhaustion sinking in, you threw your backpack on the couch and dove into your bed. It felt like your body was being sucked by the mattress from how soft it was compared to your apartment bed in HQ. The sheets and pillows were spotless and clean. Smelled fresh from the laundry with a hint of lavender. You couldn't help but smile from how cozy it all felt.

Chamber, on the other hand, took meticulous steps in adjusting to being in a monstrosity of a room. He first removed his shoes and neatly placed them beside the door. Of course he kept his socks on; he wouldn't want his bare feet touching the room slippers. He then dusted off the inside of the cabinet with a disposable napkin before carefully placing his briefcase in it. You were watching him with one eye as you're one with your bed. He acted like he had one of his fragile toys inside his case, but you knew that he kept his arsenal within his radianite tattoos, scanning the way it flowed like gold canals from his forehead to his arms.

"Keep staring, mon chéri. I appreciate the attention," Chamber remarked as he folded the navy blue vest he took off himself. And guilty you obviously were, so as a defense mechanism, you buried your face on your pillows to hide your embarrassment. It's no secret that Chamber is one hell of a handsome gentleman who displayed such strong confidence inside and outside the field. He's too attractive that it's literally a trap left in the open, and one's stupid for falling for it. Most of the agents in VP, especially the superiors, knew that he had other motives, ones that were beyond his contract. He was vocal about it, describing his agenda as an "even bigger picture". Others found it difficult to bond with him 'cause of how good he is at pretending to be an open book, so tonight they paired him with someone quiet: someone like you.

This was unfair, you thought. You weren't great at keeping silent, you just were. You had always been a person of few words, and you found more sense in maintaining things direct and concise rather than prettying it with pointless fillers. But it did not mean that you were immune to his appeal. You were, in fact, 'stupid' for dipping your toes, looking back at the copious glances you stole from him this week.

You were gonna wrap yourself with your blanket when Chamber called your name, "May you come over here?" You turned your head to face where his voice came from, his words echoing from the bathroom.

"Yeah?," you lazily muttered, clicking your tongue, then dragging yourself out of the fragrant sheets. As you opened the door ajar, your eyes were blinded by the white light from the ceiling and the golden luster from Chamber's back tattoos. You gulped as you helplessly stared at his bulky physique, something you didn't expect due to how he was always covered decently. It took all the control you can to lock your jaw from dropping and your eyes from popping out of their sockets, feasting on his half-naked state. Good thing he wasn't looking in your direction to witness how stunned you were. Instead, he was facing the sink, his glasses on top of his head, squinting on a puny razor with disgust.

He turned to you, presenting the razor, "This inn has yet to cease my disappointment from growing," then lent it to you, "If you don't mind, please help me groom myself."

Just when you thought the situation won't get significantly awkward, more pressure was added by his request, followed by him almost closing the gap between the two of you. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to how the hell you were gonna do this. His shadow was literally looming over your figure.

"Um. Isn't there a stool somewhere? I can't reach," you asked as your eyes wandered in search of it, even when half the truth was you're finding an excuse to not look at him.

It wasn't long before a pair of strong hands made their way to your waist, raising you just enough to surprisingly grip Chamber's shoulders. The same hands later supported your thighs, anchoring you to sit on the bathroom counter. You felt a cool flash hit your clothed limbs from the counter's freezing surface, but it was paid for by the marksman's warm breathing on your face. You could also smell his expensive cologne which miraculously stayed even after being soaked for several hours under the sun. Chamber sported a smug look as he observed how shameful you were with your positions- you seemingly straddling him from the way you sat close to him and him pinning you on your spot with his arms on your sides- setting an opportunity for him to tease you.

"Is this better, mon chéri?"

Fuck you Chamber, you cursed in silence. You mentally slapped your very being to calm down and not overthink whatever's happening. He's probably just messing with you so he could feel better.

Making sure your palms weren't sweaty from this nerve-wracking situation, you fumbled for the tube of shaving cream and proceeded to prep him. You massaged his face, your fingers touching the pricks of stubble growing from his jaw, something one might fail to notice without closer inspection. These were ticklish to your soft hands, triggering you to picture Chamber with a full beard on- or a mustache maybe? It helped you ease your nerves, but thinking about how he would've looked was difficult since he always kept his face clean.

Try as you may ignore him, the more the silence grew, the higher the tension was becoming. Like a ticking bomb, your heart started to pace from how he kept his eyes on you. Almost like laser burning your skin. Like he was stripping you naked. How the hell were you gonna do this properly if he's acting like that?

Chamber watched the build-up of red from your ears to your cheeks. He's amused by the size difference, him embodying a predator cornering his next meal. How could he forget the way you effortlessly flicked your firearm at consecutive enemies during your mission together? It got him attracted to you like a damn magnet. Almost a distraction. From the skills you've exhibited, you just helped him save magazines of bullets and repair times, and sometimes all that's left for him to do was admire your graceful movements through Tour De Force's scope. Yet there's something about the way you switched now that's making him act up. The way you're desperately collecting yourself in front of him displayed a huge contrast against your dominance in the field. Interesting. His seed of fondness over you was being watered to growth the more he thought about how you're turning out to be his perfect match.

You weren't sure if it's just you but the proximity of your faces seemed to gradually lessen. Shifting your eyes down was a mistake too as you met deliciously toned muscles with gold circuit-like strips running from his torso to the boundary of his pants' waistband. With one hand holding the razor and the other on his face, you tried to initiate a conversation, hoping to get your mind out of the gutter.

"Do your tattoos hurt?"

It took him a few seconds before answering with a hum, "Non, why do you ask?"

"Well, it's because all your weapons are stored there, so it must take a lot of energy to take them out of you, right?" you followed in a matter-of-factly tone, genuinely curious while steadying your shaving hand, careful not to cut his skin.

Your trivial interest over his masterpiece excited him. After all, he loves talking about himself.

"They do, but I work out in order to compensate. So say, I wanted to upgrade my radianite weaponry, then I need to be stronger for that."

"Hm," you simply responded, unable to stop yourself from making quick peeks over his huge chest and broad shoulders, a clear proof that he had been sweating to build his body, "Um... You're not Radiant, right?"

"I am not as special as the others in terms of that," he said, "though I am special in another context."

You rolled your eyes in disagreement, although the butterflies fluttering in your stomach dictated otherwise. Just a bit and then you're done, you reminded yourself. You gently tilted his face using your free hand to the other direction. It's bothering how Chamber's eyes didn't leave your sight even with his head shifted. Like he's committing this obscene act in purpose. Hard to tell though because it might just be all in your head. After all, you're probably way below his type, and you've only been in the Valorant Protocol for less than a year to leave a lasting impression on the sentinel.

A drop of shaving foam fell onto your lap. Out of pure instinct, Chamber swiped it with his finger, his hand slightly pressing onto your thigh. It was heavy, and you swore you felt chills run down your spine from this contact. Gulping, you decided to fake curiosity over the continuation of his tattoos on his hand.

"And this is where your cards come from?"

"Ah," he exhaled, meekly showcasing the hand you were pertaining to, "Here is where my teleporters and traps are."

"So the cards-"

"Come from the other hand, yes."

Your brow raised in affirmation, "Oh."

You paused from your task to acknowledge his other hand, its wrist adorned by a custom gold watch touching the side of your other thigh. His arm was incredibly close, trapping you on your right side as you felt the metal bracelet poking through the fabric of your pants. You were almost done, left with the last step of moisturizing his face, so you continued to ignore this inevitable tension eating your insides and further entertained his ego, "Are there other things you can do?"

"Would you like me to show you?"

A whimper escaped your lips as your body had been suddenly pulled forward by strong hands that squeezed your thighs, the razor jumping out of your grasp and falling onto the bathroom floor. Chamber tugged the clean face towel hanging on the wall hook to wipe the leftover foam off of his face and threw it on the ground. You helplessly muttered, his nose almost touching yours, "I swear I'm almost done."

"It is a shame that I do not bear that much patience," he growled, his eyes fixated on the way your dry lips trembled. You were driving him feral from the way you cowered, face piping hot red under his big stature, and it's urging him to just ravage every inch of your being. But as a gentleman, he had to tone himself down, at least on the start, so he wouldn't scare you any more than you are right now. His hands caressed your waist, palms tracing the curves down to your hips. Chamber was leaving you breathless from his touch, forcing you to resort onto clutching his shoulders. The icy feeling of your hands on his bare skin motivated the marksman to pull you much closer, your hot core being poked by his tent through both your pants. You gasped in unison with him, crossing paths with his eyes set ablaze by desire.

His face slowly neared yours, the clean smell left by the shaving cream tickling your nose. Your ears rang from the vibrations of your pulse, too. Unsure of whatever urged him to be like this, your eyes closed and braced for whatever he might do. Then, Chamber's lips crashed yours, his mouth tasting stingy from the minty toothpaste. His rough hands slid under your upper garments, feeling your soft skin just below your chest. Quiet moans struggled to slip out from you as his tongue invaded your mouth. You were becoming dizzy from the warmth he radiated from every overlap of his lips on yours and every ghost of his touch close to your erotic parts, so you tried to push him away. Chamber respected this, pulling away from you as a wet string was tangled in between your lips. He licked his upper lip, savoring your aftertaste, and kept a heated look as he adored this mess you became from his advances.

"Not as innocent as I thought you were, mon ange," he teased with a smile, brushing a stray portion of your hair to the back of your red-tipped ear. You have so many questions, but the dryness of your mouth made it difficult to spit out words. You tried backing away from him, but you were caged. His grip on your thighs were also strong. Bruising, almost. Looking straight at him, you noticed your reflection from his dilated pupils. His breathing was audibly deeper this time, all while focusing on you and only you.

"W-Why?," you managed to speak out as your voice trembled.

The way he looked at you didn't waver, "Is it not obvious that I'm smitten over you?"

You blinked. You wanted to pinch yourself just to confirm whether you were dreaming or not because this did not feel right. The possibility of your death from failing to defuse the spike seemed more likely to happen than someone like Chamber harboring such a fire for you. Reject it as much as you did, the lust and want in his eyes did their absolute best to convince you that this is real. You were what he'd been eyeing for, much more a necessity than a want. To him, at this very moment, nothing could ever compare to finally having you. Even just for tonight.

Chamber pressed himself onto you, leaving you gasping for air as his entirety devoured your fragile being, gently pushing your back to lean on the mirror. His nose nuzzled your neck, then proceeded to indulge himself to your scent. His prediction was right; your smell was sweet and addicting, like a delicacy he'd purposely bite. You felt his tongue lick your neck, making you tense and earning him a moan from you. He groaned from the noise you just made, certainly wanting more.

"I beg of you, mon chéri. Please let me in," he breathed with his lips still grazing your neck. Unable to use your words, you affirmed his desperate plea by wrapping your legs around his hips and your hands on the back of his neck and shoulders. This made the feeling inside him eat him more, so he compensated by sucking and nipping onto your skin until there were hickeys on the base of your neck. You released lewd noises from the way Chamber brazenly marked you and from the way his hands gripped onto your frame- like you'd slip away from him if he didn't hold you tight.

The line was almost crossed when his fingers held onto the clasp of your jacket's zipper. You liked everything that's happening- you sometimes dreamt of it, but this is reality, and he's skipping way too many bases. His wrist was stopped by your hand, causing him to look at you with lidded eyes, lips moving to kiss your hand that held his, "Are you not enjoying this?"

You struggled to make eye contact from how you felt your face will explode from too much heat. In response to his question, you shook your head. He stopped, slowly backing away to give you some space, but not far enough to still feel each other's breathing. "My apologies, I got carried away. I should have asked for your consent first." His palms then met your burning cheeks, raising your head enough for you to face him, "But mon amour, I adore you. You are the only thing in my mind ever since we started working closely together. What shall I do to make you mine?"

His words shocked you. Obviously from the way he explored you hungrily, you knew there was something, but you refused to accept this until he said it out loud. You thought this was gonna be a one night thing or just his carnal desires talking, and you didn't want to be left heartbroken by any of those. You're just too soft for that kind of thing. "Are you sure?"

"That is a silly question," he answered, adding another passionate kiss to your hand, "Of course I am."

"T-Then..," you hesitated for a moment, unable to think clearly from the spirals that crowded your mind.

"Then what?"

Building up courage, you accepted this possibility of Chamber wanting you, abandoning the what ifs for tomorrow and trying to enjoy the privilege of being his tonight. With your hand finally loose on his wrist to touch his cheek, you mumbled, "Then take me."

"Tu m'excites, mon amour," he breathed out shakily before locking his lips onto yours. The kiss this time was more torrid than before, with your tongues feverishly exploring each other's mouths. Your hands, in need of something to brace onto, slid from his jowls to the back of his neck and his undercut, your head tilted upwards as his figure conquered yours. Without pause from making out, your jacket was zipped open to the hem, exposing the tank top that hugged your upper body. Chamber's lips, its bottom swelled from the bites you've snuck, eventually pulled away to peck your collarbone. You were feeble from every move he made, melting like a puddle as his hands swiftly got rid of articles of clothing that blocked him from feeling your bare chest.

His warm hands palmed your breasts, supple to his touch. "Ah, just the right fit," he whispered with a smile before sucking your earlobes. Your nipples had gotten erect the more he kneaded on your chest, eventually getting played by his fingers. You couldn't help but let out moans from this loving you received without any demands for exchange. Lucky for you that Chamber's the type of man to find pleasure from his partner's pleasure, so he's doing his absolute best to elicit these lewd reactions from you to satisfy himself too. Your panties were inevitably getting soaked from this heated activity, made worse by his mouth sucking on your nipples and his erection grinding on you.

Chamber's slicked-back hair became disheveled from navigating every inch of your bare skin- starting from the base of your jaw to your breasts. He's even hotter looking like this, you thought to yourself, although your lashes fluttering in passion relayed this to him. "Keep your eyes on me," he ordered in a soft tone as he descended to your legs, removing your pants and leaving your underwear clinging onto your folds. Your thighs were spread apart by Chamber's hands, his hot breathing fighting the counter's chilly contact with your skin. The marksman's face was too close to your sex, with only a thin underwear as the only boundary left. He smiled at the sight of your panties' wet stain, his fingers repeatedly swiping onto it, assuring him that you were enjoying this as much as he did and earning him moans from you.

You swore your mind was turning blank from how his eyes were still staring at yours as his fingers moved from the stain to your panties' fabric, tucking them on the side, revealing your moist folds. His eyes momentarily closed from ecstasy, smelling your rousing scent below. He even bet that your taste was just as good. You bit your lower lip as his tongue began to flick from your folds to your erect clit, keeping this pattern over and over again. "Oh my god," you needily whimpered. You haven't felt anything better than this. It's so different from when it's just you touching yourself during your sleepless nights or stressful weekends. Moans were hardly produced from you masturbating in your bed compared to Chamber coating your entirety with his saliva. He's too good at eating you out. It felt like you were ascending into heaven.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you were nearing your climax. He didn't stop from lapping your cunt even after your release, your tummy coiling and your legs shaking badly from the high. You were still gasping for air when Chamber decided to unbuckle his belt, freeing his hard length that curled up to his navel. His eyes were also way darker than before. You were getting wetter just from the sight of his cock erect for you, and this was clear proof that he had asserted so much power over you right now. It wasn't a problem since you were more than willing to be used by him, thanks to the lust intoxicating your mind, vacant of any rationality. Both of you were longing for each other- and you'd like to leave it at that to keep things simple.

"I cannot wait any longer," Chamber grunted as he held onto his cock's shaft, spitting on it as lube, "You are way too beautiful being this sinful for me."

You struggled to keep your noises inside you as his cock's head penetrated your entrance. It wasn't even the whole thing yet it already felt big. Chamber groaned from how your walls clenched and slowly sucked him in. It's been so long ever since the last time he visited cloud nine, and to do it with a heavenly being such as you, all hot and bothered from his erotic efforts, made it the best he'd ever experienced. Oh, how he loved the way you turned to mush on his grasp- hair tumbled and body painted by his love marks- as he slowly sank himself inside you.

Your hands were lost, fumbling all over the marksman's back for someplace to hold onto as he thrust in you, your nails digging onto him. It was distracting him from relishing your insides, so he caught your wrists and pinned them above your head. This was his declaration of control, and it turned you on much more than ever, your sex getting wetter, allowing Chamber to insert his whole length with ease until he was balls deep into you. "Merde, you feel so good," he cursed as his hips drilled into yours, spreading your legs and your insides even wider. The sloppy sounds from your skin and his skin echoed through the four walls, filling the room with vulgarity. If this happened at headquarters, the whole team would've heard how you shamelessly cried his name. Thank Brim for this blessing in disguise because if it wasn't for him, then you wouldn't find out that the handsome guy you've been ogling at missions fancied you more.

Chamber amped up his pacing, driven crazy by the music of your moans. This made your mouth dry, longing for him, so your face desperately reached for his. "Please," you begged with tears at the edge of your eyes from the pleasure built up. Chamber was motivated by how you looked like a hungry pup, pleading for sustenance, so like a good master would, he leaned closer and reciprocated the fervor of your kisses. Both of you exchanged hot moans in between making out, all while he railed you like the sun wouldn't shine again tomorrow.

You felt a tight knot building in your stomach and your legs started to quiver, a clear sign that you were getting close. Chamber, being mindful of cues, picked up his pace until his rhythm turned reckless. Your locked hands fought for release, anchoring on his worked shoulders while his hands descended to your ass, moving you so he could pound you harder. You tasted a hint of blood from biting too hard on your lip as you climaxed, your legs trembling non-stop as they went around the gentleman's thin waist. He didn't slow down from pumping his cock into you while you were releasing, ensuring that you're letting all of it out, drenching his cock in all of your juices.

The adrenaline in your system slowly eased, helping you relax and catch your breath. He pulled out, his hands sliding towards your overworked thighs, caressing them to avoid cramps. This was thoughtful of him, earning him more attraction from you. It's also fair that he was as flustered as you were; at least you knew that he was truthful with his feelings for you. Chamber then pecked your forehead, not minding the sweat that dripped, "Did I feel good?"

"That's a silly question, monsieur," you retorted, hearing him chuckle. He once again kissed you, but this time it was more gentle than the firsts, combining it with a hug.

He hummed with contentment, studying your work on his face through the mirror while not letting you go, "You did excellently for someone who doesn't do this kind of grooming."

"Thank you," you happily whispered to his ear, tightening your arms around his neck.

"And," he whispered back with a change in his tone, "You're loud for someone who's awfully quiet most of the time." His grip then aided you to plant your feet back on the floor. As you were finally able to stand up again, Chamber then lightly spanked your ass, prompting you to face the bathroom mirror with your back leaning to his chest.

"Up," he patted your thigh, commanding you to bring that leg up on the counter with his erection slapping your once again heated core, "The night is still young, and I have plenty more to show you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[ohbother2]

hi! so like, i might try writing smut soon enough (because why the hell not amirite?) so like, is there any advice you could give me? like DOs and DONTs, tools that could be useful to avoid orthographic errors etc etc (im used to using chat GPT to look at my horribly, horribly written texts and correct them, but i've got a feeling it will straight up censor it, and english's not my first language, so anything that would make my dirty dirty texts into dirty clean text would be dope)

Hi!

I'm sorry but because you're an ageless blog I'm not going to give actual smut-writing advice, but ig it's okay to give general writing advice?

Just a reminder to everyone, if you're a minor please do not interact with me or my posts!

In all honesty I don't really know what I even do when I write, the words just sort of appear and I'm like 'yep, that works', but that's not the most useful advice, lol

I envision the story I want to read, and then I write it how I want to read it. I hope that makes sense

I guess my main advice would be to find your own niche, like, are you a dialogue or an 'action' based writer? Ofc it's good to be good at both but people have their own strong suits. For me, for example, I'm much better at descriptive writing than dialogue so that's what I focus most of my writing around

People also have their own unique styles and formatting to their writing - I feel as though mine is pretty distinctive with certain types of vocabulary and paragraph spacing/grammar/etc - so I guess it would be good to find a style that works good for you! For example, don't stick to lengthy paragraphs of immense detail if that doesn't come naturally to you, etc

My absolute top priority when writing is to not tell the readers what's going on, but to show it. Sometimes 'They felt X/Y/Z' is a useful tool for emphasising a particular point, but sometimes it detracts from the writing overall.

As an example: 'He felt as if his heart was going to burst from his chest...' (This can be good when used in the right moments, but if that's the only descriptor the writing loses a bit of life to it)

Compared to: 'His heart hammered painfully against his taut ribs as he gasped uselessly for breath...' (This is showing rather than just simply telling, and is how I personally prefer to write a majority of the time)

It's also important not to repeat yourself unnecessarily - it can be good to repeat when you're really trying to emphasise a point, but sometimes writing can stagnate and become less engaging? It's very difficult to find the right balance but it makes a world of difference to a piece of text

For dialogue (arguably my weakest skill) the best piece of advice is that you cannot write accurately how people in real life talk. When we talk we mostly fill out thoughts with nonsense and fluff out the main point - you can't write this because the readers will become disengaged. There's an important balance to find between being too formal for speech, maintaining the main point of the conversation, and ensuring the characters still sound like themselves. I tend to really try and put myself in the characters heads, think about what they'd actually say, and then 'translate' it into a written format that works whilst keeping that characters traits.

The way I 'learnt' to write was through reading, and I'd really recommend you read in your desired writing language (I'm guessing English from your ask) to see the typical structures and vocabulary of that language when written down. Direct translations don't always work, especially with literature, because there are phrases and sayings and common slights-of-tongue that are language specific, so I think it's really useful to get used to that language in its own written form, yk?

I forgot!! But it's also important not to tell your readers everything. Let them fill some gaps in on their own - they don't need to be told how a line of dialogue was said if it's obvious in the speech and context, and they don't always need to know how a character moved across a room or what their hands are doing 100% of the time. Sometimes the best parts of stories are the bits that go unsaid :)

Sorry, this is rambling and probably not very useful, but I've never given writing advice before.

Writing really is all down to the author finding their own 'voice' within their texts, and I'm sure you're writing will be great!!! I hope this helps! :))