I finally did it! A way to find most of the stories on here that I write, please have patience as I try to figure out how to link to ao3 plz will update with the more I write
Hogwarts Legacy:
Of Nifflers and Magic Part One
Of Dueling Debates Part Two
Of Healing Ways Part Three
Of Excuses and Flirtations Part Four
Of Dark Arts Part Five
Of Curses and Stones Part Six
Of Sleepy Cuddles Part Seven
Of Ice and Snickers Part Eight
Of Rattles and Wrongs Part Nine
DC:
Hey Bartender - Dick Grayson Love Story
You Are My Sunshine - Aged Up!Damian Wayne Love Story
(Full Version on ao3)
You Are My Sunshine Chapter 2
Miraculous LadyBug:
HopScotch - Marinette/Kim Le Chien
You're frustrated. So deeply, incredibly frustrated that you could cry. Your night was supposed to be perfect. You'd cracked open the expensive wine Sylus had gifted you forever ago, intenting on getting drunk, using your favorite vibrator until your legs were shaking, then having the best sleep of your life.
Only the first part was going to plan.
You're a drunk mess, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as you stare at the sleek silicone device in your hands. Usually it's perfect. Usually it does its job well. But tonight, you just can't figure it out. You would get so close, so stupidly, agonizingly close, but then it would fail. Right at the last second, it would somehow end up two inches above or below your aching clit, leaving you incredibly frustrated.
So you do the only thing your drunk brain can make sense of.
You call Sylus.
The ringing doesn't last long. It never does when you call him.
"It's three in the morning. This better be a crisis, kitten." He says, his voice deep and surprisingly alert considering how late it was. Part of you wonders if he ever sleeps when he's not with you.
"Sylussssss." You whine, the name rolling off your tongue. "Issa... it's a 'mergency. A real one. My fav'rit... It's broke. Won't work 'nymore."
There's a brief sharp silence on the other end before you hear the muffled rustle of clothes. You can only assume Sylus is putting his jacket on.
"What stopped working? Are you hurt?"
"No, m'annoyed!" You huff, kicking a leg out from underneath your heavy comforter. "I need it. S'like it's avoidin' me..."
"I'll be there in ten minutes. Stay put." He commands, the protective, possessive edge of his tone sending a shiver down your spine.
"Yessir." You mumble before the line goes dead.
True to his word, you hear the front door open ten minutes later, the lock clicking softly. Then, the heavy thud of combat boots against your floor, growing louder until the bedroom door swings wide open. Sylus stands in the threshold, a dark silhouette against the hallway light. His crimson eyes immediately sweep the room for a threat.
He notes the half-empty bottle of expensive red on the nightstand, the precarious tilt of the empty glass, and then finally, he sees you curled up underneath the sheets and that lavender vibrator just a few inches away.
He exhales a sharp, controlled breath, the tension leaving his shoulders only to be replaced by that smug cockiness of his. He's found something much more interesting than sleep.
"A real emergency, hm?" He drawls as he strides into the room, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. He stops at the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you try and properly focus on him.
You look up at him, your vision swimming just enough to make you see two of him standing right at the foot of your bed.
"S'defective." You groan, gesturing vaguely at the device. "I try... it jus'moves! It's mean."
You hear Sylus huff in amusement, though you don't have a sharp remark to give him in return. Your mind is too foggy from the wine, too focused on fixing your damn vibrator so you can just go to bed.
Sylus reaches out, his large hands making the toy look impossibly small by comparison. He turns it over once, his thumb grazing the power button. The soft hum fills the silence of the room. He blinks at it before glancing back at you, amusement written all over his features. He clicks it off once more.
"It seems perfectly functional to me, kitten."
You just shake your head at him.
He tosses the device back onto the bed as he shrugs off his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He doesn't care. He's far more focused on the idea that you'd essentially been edging yourself for god knows how long because you were too drunk to hold the damn toy in place.
"You called me here at three in the morning because you can't figure out how to work your vibrator?" He asks as his hands find the edge of the sheet you've somehow managed to get tangled up in. With a firm tug, he yanks the blanket off of you, his breath hitching just seconds later.
You're bare from the waist down, and Sylus's red eyes instantly roam your body without an ounce of shame. You shift against the pillows, your thighs falling open. The sight nearly brings him to his knees. You're soaked, pussy dripping as if he'd been doing nothing but fucking you with his tongue for hours.
"Oh sweetie... You should have just told me you were lonely. I'm much better at following orders than a piece of silicone." He purrs as he moves around to the side of the bed, his fingers ghosting up your thigh. He stops himself before he reaches your cunt, knowing if he touches you, he won't be using that precious vibrator like you want.
"S'fast. And it... doesn't talk back. Good at gettin' the job done." You mumble, watching as Sylus sits on the edge of your bed to undo his combat boots. You giggle at him as if having him there is the funniest thing in the world to you, too drunk to notice that he's fighting back his own wants to make sure your need is satisfied.
Within moments, he's settling between your knees, vibrator in his large hands as he stares down at you. You're a mess of drunken need, but he's never been able to turn you down, especially when you look so desperate to be ruined.
His free hand finds your hip as he drags the tip of the silicone through your glistening folds, clicking it back on the moment it reaches your swollen clit. Your back instantly arches off the bed, your breath leaving you in a loud cry. It had felt so good when you'd been holding it, but now that it was Sylus instead, it was even better.
"Just lay back and relax. I have you." He murmurs, taking in the way your hands grasp onto the sheets like you might tear them. He drinks in every little response from you. The way he has to coax your legs back open because you've clamped your thighs around his hand, the way you tremble just underneath the lowest setting.
Perhaps if he was nicer, he might have left it on the lowest setting and gently brought you to the edge. He doesn't care that you're probably overstimulated and overly sensitive. If anything, it just makes him want to be even more mean.
With two clicks of the button, he has the vibrator on the highest setting. Your hips immediately buck underneath him, head thrashing against your pillows as a loud, shattered moan leaves your mouth. It's too much, far too much for you to handle, and yet you don't have it in you to beg him to turn it down.
His free hand grasps your hip firmly, pushing you down into the mattress as he circles your clit with that little buzzing piece of silicone.
"That's why it hasn't been working for you. You can't run when it gets intense, kitten. That's not how it works." He tells you, though you can barely focus on it, too caught up in the sensation of a strong vibration against your already sensitive clit.
"Sylus!" You manage to gasp out, your legs clamping shut around his hand. This time, he doesn't coax them open. He simply throws his leg over your thigh, using his body weight to keep you nice and spread for him all while he keeps that steady vibration against you.
You can feel how hard he is against your thigh, how much his cock is straining against his leather jeans.
"You can take it. Can't you?" He asks with absolutely no intentions of clicking back to a lower setting. You shake your head, too gone to speak properly even as you try to move away, shift your hips away from the intense vibrations.
Sylus just holds you still, forcing you to take it. You manage to lock eyes with him, intending on pleading for mercy, but you don't get the chance.
Your orgasm is intense, has you arching off the bed until you're certain your spine might snap, your choked moan echoing within the silence of your room. Sylus immediately pulls the vibrator away, replacing it with his thumb as he rubs small circles against your clit, watching the way you squirm underneath him.
His touch is slow, light, gentle compared to the vibrations that were held against you, meant to slowly bring you down from that high. You squeeze your eyes shut, your entire body trembling as you try to catch your breath. It's nearly impossible with the way Sylus is still rubbing your clit, so you weakly swat at his hand, trying to squirm away.
"S'too much..." You whimper. Sylus hums in response, but for once, he actually listens. His thumb stills against your clit, momentarily dipping down to your slick entrance before he forces himself to tear his hand away, finally turning off the toy you'd been so convinced was broken. His hands then move to your thighs, watching you clench around nothing. He really should go, should let you sleep off the wine, but it would be a shame to leave you so wet.
"You... S'your turn..." You mumble, already trying to move to sit up against the pillows.
"Don't worry about me, sweetie. You're exhausted."
But you aren't letting him slip away so easily. Not when he gave you what was probably the best orgasm of your life.
"No. Your pants... Take them... Mm, gimme." You hum.
"You're drunk. No."
"Want it. Gimme." You argue.
He finally gives in with a heavy sigh. This wouldn't be the first time you two have had sex while drunk, and judging by how eager you are for him to take his pants off, he's guessing it won't be the last time either.
"You're lucky you're cute." He says as his hands move to his waistband, unzipping his pants before tugging the leather down just enough to free his cock. You squirm just in front of him, eager and wanting despite the orgasm he'd already granted you. Any other time, he would have teased you relentlessly.
Now, he simply slides the tip through your silky folds, brushing against your sensitive clit just to hear you whimper before he pushes into your tight heat. A low groan leaves him at the feeling of your velvety walls gripping him so deliciously, his hands finding the back of your thighs to keep you spread and open for him.
He isn't rough like he usually is. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he went too far while you were drunk. Instead, his pace is slow and deep, his hips grinding into you with every thrust, meant to savor the feeling of being buried in your cunt.
Your hands find his shoulders, weakly trying to pull him down while you moan for him. He doesn't make you wait. He doesn't even make you beg. He simply leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hands guide your legs around his waist. This is probably the most gentle he's ever been with you.
His teeth lightly scrape against your skin as he pushes impossibly deeper, your bedframe creaking softly, keeping perfect rhythm with his softer pace. It's not the obscene, filthy fucking that you always crave from him, but it has you whimpering his name as your arms wrap around him, your hands grasping onto his shirt as your hips clumsily move against his.
It doesn't take long for you to cum again, his slower, deeper pace coaxing a second orgasm. You fall apart around him, your cunt clamping down onto him like a vice as he fucks you so gently. You hear him let out a long groan, followed by a guttural curse as his rhythm falters, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.
Sylus rocks into you, slow and steady as his hands knead your thighs. He's quiet for a long moment, savoring the way you squeeze him so tightly, savoring how wet you are. It's only when you go limp underneath him that he finally lefts his head, a flicker of fond amusement crossing his features as he sees that you're finally fast asleep.
He stays a moment longer than necessary, his hand coming up to brush a stray strand of your hair out of your face. You look so peaceful, he doesn't have it in him to wake you to clean up.
Sylus adores kissing you. It's quickly become his favorite activity. Every time he sees you, you're pulled into his lap, his big hands squeezing your hips as his lips crash into yours. Sometimes he's rough, other times he's slow, like he's savoring the moment. You never know what to expect from him, but all you know is that he has your pussy dripping within like a minute.
Now isn't any different.
You're straddling his lap, knees digging into the velvet of his chair, while your fingers dive into the silver strands at the nape of his neck, desperately trying to tug him closer. You kiss him like you're trying to steal the breath from his lungs, like you want him to be just as hot and bothered as he makes you. You know he's hard. You can feel his cock just underneath you, pressing right against your clothed cunt like it belongs there. You suppose it does, but with Sylus holding you so firmly, you have no choice but to sit there and try to ignore the way it would feel so good to grind against.
Sylus kisses exactly like he speaks. Demanding and utterly in control. You debate pushing at his shoulders, whining how it's not fair that he still seems so composed, but then his tongue is licking into your mouth. You shiver against him, your hands tugging at his hair. It's ridiculous how easy he has you undone and eager for him to fuck you.
He lets you set the pace, lets you be the one to scramble and claw, but you can feel how intentional he is. Every brush of his lips against yours, every slide of his tongue has you melting into a puddle right there on his lap, and he's well aware of it.
It's just how he likes you, after all. Needy and wet just from a few of his kisses. He hasn't even touched you yet, but he knows if he were to slip his hand into your pantes, he'd find you soaking.
When he finally pulls back to allow you a ragged breath, a thin, glistening string of saliva momentarily connects your lips before it breaks. Your lips are puffy and slick, your cheeks flushed a pretty pink. He's ruinously handsome in the dim lighting, his hair a mess from your frantic hands and his mouth wet. You watch him, breathless and aching while he just watches you with that dark, focused way of his, looking perfectly pleased with how much of a mess he's made of you.
You lean back in, desperate to lose yourself in him, desperate to feel his mouth on yours, but his hand moves faster than your clouded mind can track. His long fingers fan out across your jaw, firm and unyielding, stopping you just inches from his mouth. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but then he's tilting your head from side to side, his eyes fixated on your lips like he's admiring a particularly interesting piece of art.
"Patience, Kitten." He rasps.
You don't listen. You want him too badly. You try and close the distance once more, earning a teasing huff from him.
"Sylus, please..." You whimper.
"I'm not done looking at you yet." He tells you. The denial has another broken, frustrated whine leaving your lips. You can't believe his audacity, though you consider yourself lucky at the same time. He could have pushed you off his lap, really made you work for him, but he didn't. He's kept you there, and now that he isn't holding your hips so tightly, you take the opening while you still have it.
You roll your hips right into him, the layers of clothing between you two muting the feeling of his cock against you. You don't care. It's good enough for now. You want to see his composure to crack, to feel him lose his breath the way you've lost yours.
But Sylus is not a man who easily gives up control. If anything, your bold display amuses him. Still, the hand on your hip tightens, his thumb hooking into the waistband of your jeans as he grinds back slow and steady. This steals the air right out of your lungs in a pathetic little moan as he guides your rhythm, his hand dictating exactly how and when you move against him.
"Look at you." He murmurs, leaning in to brush his damp lips against the corner of your mouth. "So eager to skip to the end, kitten. And here I thought you were enjoying yourself."
He's mocking you, and you're well aware of it. Usually you'd snap back with some sharp comment, maybe tell him to mind his damn business, but for right now, you don't care. You like it. You like knowing that he knows what he does to you.
But even so, you're done waiting.
"I would enjoy it more if you took my pants off."
This makes Sylus pause. His eyes flick down to the denim hugging your thighs before he meets your gaze once more, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. He's well aware of what you want, but he can't help wanting to tease you a bit. He likes the anticipation.
"I know." He responds as he trails his mouth down your cheek, along your neck, nipping and sucking little bruises onto your skin as if he's perfectly content to do it all day.
Little shit.
"You are such a fucking tease." You whine even as you tilt your head for him. Even as you arch into him. Even as you continue to rub yourself against the bulge in his pants. You wonder if he's going to make you wait all day after all. Just the thought has your pussy clenching around nothing.
But Sylus relents. His hands easily maneuver you in his lap as he gives a sharp tug at your waistband, yanking the denim down your thighs. Within seconds, your jeans are tossed to the floor, his thumb pressed against your aching clit through the thin layer of your slick panties. He's slow as he drags his thumb against you, watching the way your hips twitch, listening to the quiet moans that escape you.
His free hand moves to his own pants, unzipping the leather until he can shove it down his legs and free his cock. He's so hard it physically hurts, precum smeared all along the tip. Your mouth waters at the sight, but he doesn't give you the chance to reach for him. He guides your hips, positioning you just above him before his fingers tug your damp panties to the side.
"This what you wanted, kitten?" He asks, smug as ever. Then he's guiding you down onto him, his fat cock instantly stretching your cunt exactly the way you love. Your velvety walls clench around him, coaxing him deeper, begging for more until the tip is kissing your cervix.
You shudder against him your hands tugging at his hair. You feel so deliciously full, all you can focus on is the way he guides your hips, the wet sound of skin on skin each time he thrusts up into you. It's obscene, the way he fucks you right in the middle of his lounge, but you don't care. You just want more.
One hand shifts away from your hips, dipping behind you only to smack against your ass. The sharp crack echoes in the room, punctuated only by the brutal, wet glide of skin on skin. Your hands grasp weakly at his shirt, incoherent moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips before you can bite them back.
Each thrust is deep, meant to drive the air from your lungs and leave you wondering where you end and he begins. A tell-tale sign of how his composure was barely hanging on. Crack. He smacks your ass again, squeezing the supple flesh before he shifts to the other side.
Crack. Crack-crack-crack.
You writhe on top of him, seeking more of him even while you feel the heat of the sting blooming across your skin. You wonder if he'll leave a nice handprint on your ass if you ask him. You wonder if he already has.
"You want me to cum in this pretty little pussy?" He asks you suddenly, his voice a low, ruined rasp as he squeezes your hips, his movements more deliberate as he guides you down on his cock over and over again. You mumble a response, try to tell him you obviously don't want him to pull out, but it's swallowed by your moans.
So instead, you clamp onto him, honeyed walls squeezing him like a vice. He responds by finding your swollen clit once more, rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until you're falling apart around him. A choked cry leaves your lips, high-pitched and desperate as you squirm on his cock. His red eyes never leave your face, watching intently as you cum around him.
He follows a minute later with a ragged groan, his hands squeezing your hips hard enough to leave bruises later. His hips stutter underneath you as he pulls you flush against him, rocking into you like he's trying to ensure his cum remains deep inside your cunt.
For a moment, the only sound in the room is your frantic, broken breathing as you both try to come down from the high. You collapse onto him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as his arms wrap around you. He holds you so gently like he's scared you might disappear at any moment, a stark difference from the way he'd just been slamming into your cervix.
His thumbs rub small, soothing circles into your lower back as he tilts his head against the back of the velvet chair, a smug sort of pride flashing across his features as he feels you trembling against him.
"You're a mess." He says, his voice low in your ear, an amused huff following soon after. "But stay right here, sweetie. I've got you."
The first time Sylus is a bit too rough with you, it absolutely terrifies him.
He has you bent over the kitchen island, his large hands anchoring your hips with a possessive, unyielding grip as he drives his fat cock into you over and over again. His thrusts are frantic and desperate, driven by a rare lapse in his usual calculated composure. Caught in the surge of adrenaline and raw desire, he reacts on instinct. One hand leaves your hip only to smack against your ass with a sharp crack.
It's a heavy strike, meant to be a sting of pleasure, but delivered with far too much weight. The sound that falls from your lips isn't the breathless moan he expects. It's a sharp, jagged hitch of breath, followed by a small, wounded whimper.
Sylus instantly freezes, the predatory energy that he usually radiates vanishing in the blink of an eye to leave behind a sudden, jarring silence.
He hurt you.
"Wait." He rasps, his voice stripped of all its playful edge. His movements are slow as he pulls out, agonizingly careful and gentle as if he's scared to push you too far again. One hand remains on your hip, holding you steady while the other moves to your ass. His fingers trace the large welt against your skin, an uncharacteristic flicker of guilt in his red eyes.
"I went too far. I heard you." He says as he coaxes you to turn around, guiding your movements until your lower back is pressed against the kitchen island. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your lower lip in a silent apology.
His mouth follows seconds after, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that's less about desire and more about the need to undo the sting his own hand caused. Your hands find his hair, tangling in those silver strands even as you arch into him, still desperate and needy for him despite the stinging heat against your skin.
You whisper that it's okay, that you want him to keep going, that you want him to finish what he's started. But Sylus just shakes his head, his jaw clenched even as he trails his kisses down to your throat. He nips at your skin, far softer than usual, before his tongue finds your pulse point.
"Not like that." He murmurs, his voice a low vibration against your skin. "I was careless. I lost my lead."
He ignores the way you arch toward him, the way your body is practically begging for him to slide back home and continue stretching your cunt. He ignores the way you shift to settle on the edge of the counter top, but he doesn't miss the slight hiss in your breath as the cold marble hits your flushed skin.
He's decided his own punishment. He won't allow himself to lose himself in you again for now. He won't allow himself to bury his cock into your pretty little pussy until all you can both focus on is the way your velvety walls squeeze him just right. He doesn't trust the adrenaline still humming in his veins.
He doesn't trust that he won't push too far. As much as he loves being rough with you, his intent is never to truly hurt you. Instead, he sinks to his knees before you, his big hands easily pulling your thighs over his shoulders.
He doesn't give you the chance to argue with him.
The first lick is a long, flat stripe from entrance to clit that has a sharp, high-pitched moan falling from your lips. It's deliberate, meant to savor the taste of you. Sylus groans like he's tasting something exquisite, his hands pulling you further against his face.
Then his thumb settles against your clit, rubbing soft, slow circles while his tongue pushes inside you. Your hips jerk against his face, your hands tugging at his hair as he curls his tongue like he's trying to catalogue every little reaction. It's filthy, the way you're instantly dripping down his chin and coating his mouth, but he eats you as if you're his last meal.
The thumb on your clit stills for a second, quickly replaced with his mouth as he licks and sucks at you. Every hitch of your breath, every pathetic little moan that falls from your mouth only fuels his movements as he easily slips two long fingers into your dripping cunt.
He's relentless, his tongue flicking fast and hard, his fingers curling and pumping with ruthless, skilled precision. It's loud and sloppy, echoing in his kitchen and mixing with the sounds of your whimpers and whines. He's so hard it hurts, but he refuses to stroke himself as punishment for your pained cry earlier.
You're so close, so agonizingly close, when he suddenly stops, his red eyes flicking up towards your face. The sudden stillness is deafening. You're arched back, fingers tangled so tightly in his silver hair that your knuckles are white, your body trembling on the precipice of an orgasm that he just... snatched away.
It's ridiculous how your first instinct is to tilt your hips towards him, tug at his hair to try and bring his mouth back on your clit. He doesn't budge. He enjoys the way you're practically vibrating with need, but he's determined to set the terms.
"Tell me." He commands, his voice rough with the need he's suppressing even as he lazily pumps his fingers inside you. "Do you still feel that sting from earlier? Or is this all you can think about now?"
You can barely find your words, reduced to whimpering and whining as you rock against his hand, needing his fingers deeper. Needing more. He waits a few seconds to ensure that you're so lost in him that the pleasure has completely overriden the pain before he leans back in, his tongue finding your swollen clit with a renewed, relentless vigor.
"Good." He grunts against your skin, his gaze fixated on your face as your thighs squeeze his head. The build-up he forced upon you makes your orgasm hit twice as hard. Your back arches, your heels digging into his shoulders as your hips jerk and twitch against his face.
It’s not a quiet release. It’s a loud, unspooling cry that echoes off the kitchen cabinets, your fingers tightening in his hair until you’re practically pulling his head against you. Everything goes white for a second, the low light of the kitchen, the smell of his cologne, the hum of the refrigerator, all of it vanishes behind the pulsing, rhythmic squeezing of your honeyed walls around his fingers.
Sylus doesn't pull away immediately. He stays right there, holding you through the tremors as his fingers and tongue coax more out of you until you're slumped against the counter, limbs feeling like lead. Here, he finally withdraws with one last slow drag of his tongue against your clit.
The entirety of his mouth is slick because of you, but he doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he looks a bit smug. His movements are slow and deliberate as he stands up, his height looming over you once more. Seeing you completely undone by pleasure seems to have finally balanced the scales in his mind for the mistake he made earlier.
"There you are." He murmurs, his voice a dark, satisfied velvet. "Back where you belong."
He doesn't mention his own discomfort, doesn't mention how he'd give anything to bury himself inside your tight pussy, though the tension in his jaw and the way he avoids looking down at his own frame betrays how much he’s still holding back. Instead, he simply hooks his arms under your knees and back, lifting you off the counter as if you weigh nothing, intent on carrying you away from the cold marble and toward something much softer.
reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point
batman is one of those characters where i can read one of his comics and think “man. what a great guy. despite all his paranoia and obsessive tendencies he has a deep love for humanity that pushes him to make the world a better place. i don’t understand why so many people hate him.” and then i read another one of his comics and i think he should die in a glue trap
ppl are rebloging this saying “it’s because he’s written out of character so much” and that IS true in many cases but i wanna be clear that some of the times i have wished death upon him he was very much acting in character. he just has the range.
Okay so while I agree with ship and let ship, problematic ships do need to be addressed because they are a reflection of everyday societal norms. You shouldn't harass someone on it but you can point out that this wouldn't work in real life.
Okay but no one actually thinks it WOULD work in real life…. That’s why it’s fiction. Fiction. Meaning not real. Meaning made up. That’s the whole point!!!
The silk of his tie was never meant for this. Usually, it was a knot he tightened every morning with clinical precision. Now, it was a silk tether, holding his wrists to the heavy wood of the headboard.
Without his glasses, the world is a soft-focus blur of warm amber light and shadows, but he doesn't need perfect vision to feel the weight of you. You are the only sharp reality in his world right now.
He lets out a sharp, ragged breath as you settle onto his lap as if it was your own personal throne. The friction of your weight against him sends a jolt through his spine that he can't easily suppress.
"You're being particularly inefficient today." He manages to rasp out, though the bite in his tone is softened. With his hands restrained, his only option is to watch. To wait. To wonder what you have planned in that pretty little head of yours.
You don't make him wait for long.
Your hands easily find the buttons of his silk shirt, further leaning your weight into his lap as you undo them one by one to expose the pale expanse of his chest. Your hips shift, grinding down onto him in a way that's too firm to be anything other than deliberate.
Zayne's breath immediately hitches, his hazel eyes fixated on your figure as your hips rock right into the growing ache between his legs. After years together, he's become well acquainted with the curve of your smile and that mischievous look in your eyes from time to time.
Seeing it in action now that he's restrained and underneath you has a quiet groan leaving his lips.
He wants to reach out, to hook a thumb in your belt loops and pull you flush against him. To guide the rhythm of your body until it's no longer a tease but a demand. Instead, his arms strain against his silken restraint, his biceps tensing with a frustrated, useless strength.
"Is this what you wanted? To see me like this?" He asks with a slight tremor to his words, his voice low. Even through the blur of his vision, his gaze is intense, obsessed, fixated entirely on the way your hips are rocking against him.
Another slow, deliberate slide of your hips makes his jaw lock so tight it aches.
"You’re playing a very dangerous game. Do you truly think you’re prepared for what happens when these come off?" He tells you, his gaze finally drifting up your body to meet your eyes. His own cheeks are lightly flushed, his breathing noticeably heavier, a far cry from how calm and collected he usually appears.
With you, he doesn't seem to mind seeming less put together.
You don't immediately respond. Your hands push at his shirt, easily shoving it completely open as he lay underneath you before you lean down to press a kiss just underneath his jaw.
"You're so tense, Zayne. Let me take care of you, doctor." You purr against his skin, nipping at his neck just to hear that quiet little hitch of his breath.
The sting of your teeth is the final thread to snap. A low groan vibrates through his chest, and for a moment, he doesn't quite care about continuing to fight the silk around his wrists. Instead, he bucks his hips against you, a sharp, desperate movement that has you falling into him with a surprised gasp.
Your hands find his bare chest, using him for balance while your face is just centimeters away from his. You hadn't expected him to snap so easily. You'd been planning on teasing him for hours to finally crack that icy composure of his, but here he was, pupils dilated and painfully hard just underneath you.
"Either untie me and face the consequences, or don't... but I'm done waiting." He commands, though he doesn't give you a chance to answer as he tilts his head to crash his lips against yours. You shiver on top of him, one hand sliding up his chest to cup his cheek.
For a moment, that teasing rhythm of your hips stops, too caught up on the way he licks into your mouth. A soft moan leaves you, swallowed by him as the bedframe creaks. Zayne struggles against his tie again, desperate to hold you. Desperate to have you under him.
Too bad you aren't giving in just yet.
Slowly, you sit up, your palms firmly pressed against his torso as you take in the sight of him, eager and impatient below you. If you had really wanted to push his buttons, you might have continued that slow grind against him.
But for now, you shift on his lap, scooting back onto his thighs so your hands can find his waistband. You're quick to undo his belt, unzipping his trousers before finally pulling the fabric down to free his cock.
Zayne watches intently as you quickly shed your own clothes, his breathing ragged and wrecked as you reposition yourself to hover just above him.
Then you're sinking onto his cock. Then he's feeling your greedy, slick walls clamping around him like a vice. Then he's hearing that delicious little whine that always escapes you whenever he stretches your pussy.
Zayne's head falls back against the pillows as a groan leaves him, unable to help himself as he rolls his hips up into you. You're so tight around him that it's driving him insane.
You don't give him a chance to focus on it as you raise your hips only to sink back onto him once more, the sound of skin on skin mixing with the wet sound of your dripping pussy as it grips him so tightly.
You set a modest pace, slow and deep, just the way you know he likes it.
The rhythm is agonizingly perfect, a calculated torture that has him trying to find his own pace underneath you. Unable to help himself, he meets every downward slide with a desperate thrust of his own. Not being able to use his hands to pull you closer, to trace the arch of your back and the curve of your hips has a frustrated moan leaving him.
He hates being still. He hates being a spectator to his own pleasure, yet the way you're looking down at him as your pussy takes the thick length of him over and over again is undoing every bit of his medical discipline. Since he can't touch you how he wants, his focus narrows entirely on the sensation of your walls squeezing him so deliciously tight and the wet sound of skin on skin each time your ass falls right into his lap.
It doesn't take you long before you're falling apart around him. Your head tilts back with a sharp cry as your hips stutter against him, squirming and rocking against his cock. Your nails scratch into his chest, leaving tiny pink welts that stand out against his pale skin.
He's so agonizingly close, just seconds away from his own release, but then you stop. Instantly, his eyes are roaming your body, assessing you as only a doctor can, making sure you haven't hurt yourself in your attempt to drive him insane.
But then you're leaning down, your breathing heavy and uneven as you undo that silk tie around his wrists.
His hands are on your hips within the blink of an eye, rolling you onto your back as he settles between your thighs. He isn't rough; he never is, but the way he thrusts into you steals the very breath from your lungs.
He pulls your legs around his waist, his much larger body covering yours as he leans down to kiss you, patient as ever now that his hands are free.
"Zayne... You're so deep..." You whimper against his lips, earning a hum of acknowledgment from him as his mouth finds its way to your throat. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as his hips snap into yours in that deep, slow way of his.
Each drag of his cock against your walls has you crying out underneath him, but soon enough, his rhythm falters. This is your only warning before he's slamming into you like he wants to fuck you into the dirt, desperately chasing his own pleasure after you've teased him for so long.
Your hands easily slide into his dark hair, tugging at the strands as your body arches up to meet every brutal thrust of his. You try to tell him it's too much, that you won't be able to walk later, but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of moans and whimpers.
When he comes in you, his entire body tenses, his hands kneading your hips in a way that suggests he wants to keep you underneath him forever. He rocks into you once, twice, three times before he finally stills, his breathing wrecked and ruined against your bare skin.
The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the synchronized, heavy rhythm of your shared breathing. Zayne remains drapes over you for a long moment, his weight a grounding, solid comfort. When he finally shifts, it's to pull back just enough to look at you. One hand releases your hip to slide up your body, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleless that contrasts with the way he was squeezing you just moments ago.
"You're full of surprises." He murmurs, his voice a low whisper against your skin as he leans in to press an apologetic kiss to the pulse point in your neck. "I suppose I should be more careful about where I leave my ties in the future."
He huffs, a small, quiet sound as he presses a kiss to your cheek, then finally, to your lips. This one lacks the desperation he felt just moments ago, but it is no less possessive, as if he's reclaiming the territory he was denied while tied up.
"I suspect you won't be quite so energetic in the morning."
Sylus's voice was a low purr above you, trailing along your skin as if it had been his own touch. He had you pinned, one big hand easily holding both of yours down against the sheets while the other traced lazy circles just above where you so desperately wanted him.
He had been teasing you all day and now he had the audacity to make you beg for it.
You're trembling beneath him, squirming and tilting your hips to try and catch even a second of friction against your swollen clit. A dark, mocking chuckle vibrates against your throat as he presses a quick kiss just below your jaw.
"Poor little thing." He says, his voice rough and low in your ear as he releases your wrists only to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Did you really think I'd let you off early tonight?"
Your hands immediately fly to his shoulders, gripping onto him as if you're scared he might disappear. He has before. He's left you aching and dripping for him purely to watch you squirm with the effort it took to not fuck your own fingers.
You're worried he might do it again.
But then he sinks one long finger into you, curling it just right to make your back arch off the sheets. Immediately, you clamp down on him, greedy and desperate to be filled by him.
"Sylus, please…" You whimper, your voice ruined and wrecked despite him barely touching you. Your hands easily slip into his hair, tugging on the silver strands. This earns you a brush of his thumb against your clit, finally allowing some of the friction you've been seeking.
A shattered moan leaves your lips as he guides his finger out of you before pushing it deep once more, curling against your tight walls just the way he knows you like. Suddenly, he's done teasing. He's done making you wait for it. He gives you a second finger, stretching your greedy little pussy for him as his thumb rubs soft, quick circles against your clit.
"Stop squirming, kitten." He tells you, his free hand clamping down onto your hip to hold you still as you tremble beneath him.
"I can't. I need it. Sylus, please." You beg him, your head thrashing against the pillows as you try and fight his grip. It's useless and you both know it, but the sight earns an amused hum from him.
With that, he withdraws his fingers, slick and glistening in the dim lighting of his bedroom. He doesn't waste a second as he unzips his pants, shoving the leather down to free his aching cock. He slides through your honeyed folds, the tip kissing your clit as he grinds himself on you.
"Is this what you wanted?" He asks, a smug grin on his face. You both know the feeling of his skin against yours is making that ache worse. You shake your head even as a moan leaves you, echoing softly within the room as your hips buck up to meet him. He continues, grinding his cock against you again, and again, and again, until finally, he relents.
Your breath hitches as he guides the tip into your dripping pussy, his movements agonizingly slow as he lets you feel every single inch he's burying deep inside you. He groans at the feeling of your walls eagerly clamping around him, coaxing him impossibly deeper until he's fully seated inside you.
He doesn't wait for you to fully adjust to the thick length of him. He knows you can take it.
He sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours as his hands move to your thighs, keeping you spread for him. Your breath escapes your lungs in a loud cry. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes within his bedroom, an obscene, rhythmic noise that's accompanied only by your moans and the occasional groan from him.
His eyes never leave yours, watching every single reaction he pulls from you as if he could happily get drunk on you. Perhaps he already is. Each thrust is deep, possessive, and punishing, driving the air from your lungs in sharp gasps and whines. You watch it all, unable to look away from his blood red eyes, noting the way his jaw clenches every time you clench around him.
He fucks you like he's trying to merge your souls together.
You try to open your mouth and say something coherent, warn him that you're already close, but all that comes out is a broken moan. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging into his skin in a silent claim of your own. He shifts, leaning his large body forward to hover over you further, the new position pushing your knees into your chest and allowing him to hit deeper.
With every thrust, his cock kisses your cervix. You know you're going to ache later, but right now, it's completely worth it.
When you come, it's sudden and intense, your nails digging deep into his skin before scratching down his arms, a high-pitched sob tearing from your throat. Sylus follows a second later with a guttural curse, burying himself deep inside you as your walls clamp almost painfully around him. His hips jerk against you as if he can't help himself, shallow, wicked rolls that push his cum deeper.
When he finally stills, you're both panting, bodies flushed and sweaty. He releases your thighs, shifting to pull your legs around his lips instead as he buries his face into your neck. You're both satisfied for now, but you know it won't be long until he's right back to teasing you relentlessly until you're dripping and aching for him.
You know it won't be long until you're begging to be underneath him again.
Dragon age origins is like…. You’re nineteen, new in town, and it’s your second day at pizza hut. You don’t even know how to work the register yet and you just watched your manager get carted off by the paramedics. You have no contact info for him, his next of kin, or corporate. The only other employee is the guy who’s been here for two weeks and is a bit of a doofus, and neither of you really know what you’re supposed to do now. You both desperately need this job though, and the doofus at least has a drivers license and *kiiinda* knows how to use the oven so you just. Shrug, and start taking orders and making pizzas and praying to god that the bills are on autopay.
And weirdly enough you’re really good at this: making pizzas and dealing with shitty customers and breaking up fights in the parking lot and pretending to be Duncan’s cousin on the phone so the utility company doesn’t cut off the power. But running a store is a lot of work for two dumb kids, so slowly you start accumulating a bunch of competent weirdos to help out, like the nun who left her convent because god told her to help you make pizzas, and the elderly school teacher who just survived a mass shooting, and the guy the papa johns down the street hired to run you over. And really there’s no way any of this should be working as well as it is - you’re absolutely committing fraud of some kind here - but you’ve managed to dodge the landlord every time he’s stopped by, and the health inspector never shows up to tell you to stop letting your dog hang out behind the counter and you’re all still kinda looking at each other and asking ‘are we allowed to just do this?’ before shrugging again and continuing to make pizzas, until somehow, through a series of unlikely technicalities, your doofus coworker ends up on the ballot for governor.
And after like five months of this the regional manager wanders in out of nowhere and you’re sure he’s about to chew your ass out for this mess, but it turns out he’s pretty chill and honestly kind of impressed with how you managed to keep the place up and running all on your own. So now you’re all thinking ‘thank god, there’s someone here who actually knows how to run a Pizza Hut’ only for him to get hit by a car two days later on the night of the Super Bowl.
Im moving out, I’ve been living with my parents for 25-26 yrs now and while it is not a healthy environment im moving in with my boyfriend, while our relationship has some unhealthy tendencies (we both relationship trauma) I know its for the best and I can always return if I need to.
But I’m so fucking torn up right now? Like in two more months, I’m moving out. I’ll be in another town, a 15-30 minute drive.
Both my parents have health issues physical and mentally.
But yet, I know despite all the pain they’ve done to me the trauma I deal with. They love me. They’ve hurt me but they love me and none of us is perfect..
But I just hear this stupid country song playing in my head right now and it’s making me want to cry because it’s right
Despite everything I’m going to miss my home with my parents who are getting older
I’ll miss talking to my dad from my room and finding my mom doing something dangerous and violating Oscha. I’ll miss the animals I’ve helped take care of that we rescued, and I’ll the chaos and the pain and the suffering as much as I’ll miss the good times…
Im not looking for comments or reports or hearts, I just needed to share this before I sleep before I go to work at a graveyard job.
not wanting to be outdone by the benders in the gang, sokka invents the flamethrower, the supersoaker, the leaf blower, and the concept of throwing rocks at people
agonizing over all the time you wasted or lost is useless. it’s gone now. you survived in the only way you knew how. doesn’t your survival deserve some recognition too?
like toni morrison said, “sometimes you don't survive whole, you just survive in part. but the grandeur of life is that attempt. it’s not about that solution. it is about being as fearless as one can, and behaving as beautifully as one can, under completely impossible circumstances.”
Your spells are custom-made for you, by you. Usually it doesn’t change much, but tonight you were robbed and as the thief tried to cast one of your spells, he burned to a husk before he finished the first line. Your party takes a step away from the book.
Every time I remember that there will be no direct Mass Effect Andromeda sequel... Meaning I won't get to play as Ryder, who along with all my bestest found family friends, will never get to explore the rest of the galaxy and find out the answers to all the Heleus cluster's mysteries?
A different, small piece of my soul dies.
Also every time I remember that if you, as Ryder, chose the angsty romance ending with Reyes, but now that plotline will forever be left unresolved?
I feel like tracking down every shitty edgelord ragebait youtuber from 2017, gathering them all up and sticking them in a Saw trap
