Alysia

ROBERT PATTINSON as BRUCE WAYNE

First art post on this app I guess, let's go ♡

Price raised his beer in a silent toast at him, while Gaz turned to look at him puzzled.

"mate what happens?" Roach hiccuped next to Gaz , but still ordered another drink for the pretty brunette on his side.

Simon turned to look at Soap, and putting on his baclavaba he simply spoke coldly and entirely sober.

your hot and extremely sexy coah, toji’s got you pinned front-first against the cool glass, your palms slipping down it with every rough thrust. his big hand splays wide over your lower stomach, pressing down hard like he needs to feel exactly where he’s buried.

“fuck, feel that?” he growls low against your ear, voice all gravel and heat. his hips snap forward again, sinking so deep you swear you can see the bulge shifting under his palm. he grinds there, slow and deliberate, fingers digging in to map every inch of himself stretching you open.

the pressure makes everything tighter, hotter, your walls fluttering around his thick cock while he rocks just enough to drag against that spot that turns your legs to liquid.

you whimper, forehead pressed to the mirror, breath fogging the reflection of your own fucked-out face. toji’s other arm bands across your chest, holding you upright while he fucks you harder, the wet sound of it obscene in the empty room. every time he bottoms out his hand presses firmer, possessive, like he’s claiming the space inside you.

“that’s me, right there,” he mutters, almost to himself, thumb stroking over the faint ridge he can feel. his pace picks up, relentless, balls slapping against you as sweat rolls down his chest and smears across your back.

“toji, toji—toji” the mirror shows everything; his dark hair sticking to his forehead, the flex of his arms, the way your body jolts with each thrust. he doesn’t let up and keeps that steady pressure on your stomach so you both know exactly how deep he’s wrecking you.

your knees buckle but he doesn’t let you fall, instead fucks you through it, groaning when you clench down harder around him. “good girl. take every fucking inch.”

idea from this tweet

Simon Riley is the type of man to go to your mean bosses house in the middle of the night to “scare him straight” after he hurt your feelings.

He canceled your office birthday party. Purely budgetary was what he said, but, Simon didn’t give a fuck. That bastard hurt your feelings and as your husband, it’s his job to fix it and make you happy.

He waited until you were asleep to track the man down. He drove with the headlights off, wanting to be completely undetected. The house was nice. Too nice. Just another thing that pissed him off. This muppet didn’t deserve a house this nice. 

His large fist pounds the door hard, ready to kick this prick's ass straight into the ground. Your boss answers the door in his robe, looking tired and annoyed.

His face changes quickly when he sees your gigantic, furious husband on his doorstep, masked and all in black. “Who- who are you? I don’t have any money.” Your boss stammers in terror, lips trembling. 

Simon huffs and pushes the door open fully. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money, prick. I’m here for my wife.”

“I don't have her! I swear, Sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pathetic wanker was nearly in tears already just at the sight of Simon. To his credit, Simon was a sight to behold, especially when he showed up ready to throw fists and ask questions later

“Shut up!” Simon bellows, “You hurt 'er feelings today, canceled 'er party. She’s been excited about tha', been talking all month about it.” It was true, you really had been excited for that stupid party. It was nothing but a small office party with a cake and maybe some streamers, but Simon knew it meant the world to you. 

“What? That… that was budgetary. I had no choice.” Your boss faltered, pulling fluffy robe tighter around himself like it would save him from the soldier in front of him ready to strike. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Simon growled, standing taller and grabbing the man by his collar. “I’ve killed men for less than this.” 

“Please, Sir.” Your boss whimpered, trying to pull away. 

“Be quiet, you pathetic shrew.” Simon rolls his eyes and shoves the man inside, towering over him. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say, or we're gonna have problems.”

Your boss scampered away quickly, trembling now. He pressed himself into a corner like a frightened animal. “Okay okay I swear I’ll do whatever you want.”

Simon sneered at him, satisfied with the pathetic display. “You’re gonna give ‘er the party. You’re gonna make it the best damn party she’s ever been to. There will be gifts, an apology, and whatever cake my wife wants. Got it?”

“Y-yes yes I understand.” Your boss nodded rapidly, eyes wide and pleading.

Simon couldn’t help but smirk. He deserved this. Deserved this for making you sad, taking something special from you. Your boss was not going to get away with it. “Throw a bonus check in there too.”

“I can’t just-“ Your boss sputtered pitifully. It was bullshit. Simon knew it. The company was doing better than ever, especially considering the lavish state of this man's house. He would find the money for your party whether he liked it or not. 

Simon was having none of it. He wouldn’t actually kill him. You would never allow that. But that didn’t stop Simon from crouching for effect, needing to really give this little shit a good scare. “Do it. Or I’ll be back, yeah?”

Your boss looked down, nodding in surrender. “Y-yeah… okay.” 

Simon slipped back into your house without a word that night. He tells you nothing when you come home with that bright, beautiful smile, saying that your boss gave you the party and you got a raise to go with it. Seeing that look on your face would always be worth terrifying a man in the middle of the night. 

🌆 ~ Rainymood ~ 🌆 (abeastinside)

hi!

It all began in the briefing room when the task force returned from a long deployment. Everyone was exhausted after being stuck in those cargo planes for hours. You couldn't get comfortable in your chair; your backside was aching from those shitty, cold, netted seats.

​Price was rambling about information you all already knew, gesturing at diagrams and maps, but your head was somewhere else. You were trying hard not to whine about the pain, scanning the room for anywhere more comfortable to sit. Suddenly, your eyes landed on Ghost’s well-defined, muscular thighs, and dear God, did they look cushioned.

​"Ghost," you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourselves. "Hey."

​"Wot?" he grunted, his eyes fixed on Price.

​"My ass really hurts from those shitty aircraft seats. I’m literally dying here. I was wondering if I could sit on your lap?" you begged.

​"What? No. We’re in a bloody meeting."

​"Please! It really hurts!"

​Ghost remained silent for a long moment, analyzing the situation. You were just about to give up when you saw him spread his legs and pat his thigh softly. "You bloody nightmare."

​You blinked several times, then immediately crawled onto his lap. Thank God—they were just as comfortable as you’d imagined. It was like sitting on a damn cloud. Seeking even more comfort, you grabbed both of Ghost’s arms and wrapped them around your waist. He was so massive that he simply rested his chin on the top of your head.

​"The next mission will take place on—" Price cut off abruptly in the middle of his sentence, his eyes locked on the two of you.

​"What? My ass hurts; you really should change the bloody seats on the aircraft," you defended yourself against Price’s judgmental stare.

​That didn't stop you, though. From that day on, you were always found in your usual place: perched on Ghost's thighs. Without fail.

Imperial palace and fireworks on a Saturday night? You know it!!!!

I love this ship so much I made a keychain to always have them next to me 😫🤧😭💗💗

Get one for yourself 🤧😭💗👇