#I yearn to be an x men

[theloverboy27]

Motivating myself to study for midterms by pretending I go to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and that if I complete them I get to go do X-Men activities

[blanchebees]

Drawing alot of yearning lately

Tip jar

[seungisms]

inexperienced!jeongin who has a big dick but doesn’t know how to use it

inexperienced!jeongin who doesn’t know how to handle it when you tease him, thinking it’s some sort of joke cause there’s no way a girl as pretty as you would even give him a second glance, but his ears are turning red with every flirty stroke of his bicep, and sweat is building up on the back of his neck when you playfully press up against him, practically able to feel your tits tight against his chest, and all he can think about is finally stuffing your pussy full of cock everytime he’s around you. he swears you do it on purpose, especially when your hand brushes against his crotch, giggling like it’s the cutest thing in the world when you find how hard he is - just to mock him for being such a virgin and he hates the way his dick jumps in excitement when you make fun of him

inexperienced!jeongin who’s a little too needy but he’s too insecure to actually ask you for sex, he’ll just resort to pathetically fucking his own fist or some of your used panties that you’ve left laying around. hating himself for being so damn awkward cause he wants nothing more than to feel your pretty pussy suffocate around his cock, to see how deep he can fuck into you until you’re clawing at him and begging him to just give you a minute. but all he can do is muffle the gasps of your name against his fist while tugging on his dick, all his dirty thoughts about you remaining just that, cause he’s just too shy to actually do something about it

inexperienced!jeongin who’s so charmingly awkward, he sometimes says the weirdest shit when he’s between your legs, he can’t look you in the eyes when he’s fucking you, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands when you makeout - wanting nothing more than to dip his fingers under the pretty little skirt you love torture him with to find out what colour panties you’re wearing - he’s just too afraid of you finally finding out how much of a pervert he really is

inexperienced!jeongin who can get off from dry humping alone, there’s so much happening and he can barely keep up - your mouth working his own open, the fingers tugging on his hair, the hot press of your cunt slotting perfectly against his dick - he nuts so embarrassingly fast and can’t even look you in the eyes after :(

inexperienced!jeongin who constantly worries about disappointing you, but if you start begging for his dick he’ll crack so quickly

inexperienced!jeongin who looks so lost the second you get him between your legs, looking up at you for guidance with every unsure touch and stroke to your clit, until you eventually grab the back of his head and shove his face into your cunt

inexperienced!jeongin who’s a fast learner, he immediately starts making out with your pussy like a man starved - he’s messy and a tad sloppy, but he’s trying his best and just wants to please you so you can’t find it in yourself to pull him away

inexperienced!jeongin who gets so carried away while eating you out, groaning and humping the bed and letting out wet little apologies when his teeth accidentally scrape against your folds. sometimes you swear he enjoys it more than you

inexperienced!jeongin who’s a little too greedy, he’ll let you ride his face until he can’t breathe, he’ll chase after your pussy and let out a pathetic whine with next to no shame when you start to lift off him, he’ll fucking get on his hands and knees and beg you for one last taste if he has to 

inexperienced!jeongin who could spend hours worshipping your pussy, completely ignoring the painful twitch of his cock to continue fucking his tongue into you, desperate to coax out more of those pretty moans from your lips. until it’s too late and he’s pulling away only to look down to find he’s made a mess of his briefs, a cum stain starting to form on the mattress he was grinding against for some relief and he’s so humiliated the he’ll lock himself in your bathroom, the sight of his ruined underwear almost mocking him and he’s never felt like a bigger virgin

inexperienced!jeongin who doesn’t know how the hell he’s gonna get through actually fucking you if he’s busting a nut from eating pussy alone

inexperienced!jeongin who can’t for the life of himself stop whimpering and whining nonsense when he’s finally inside of you, cursing under his breath, “fuck, thank you baby. never thought i’d get the chance to fuck a pussy this tight,” and choked whimpers of, “jesus, thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou,” when he’s about to cum

inexperienced!jeongin who doesn’t know how to multitask, he tries to kiss you when he’s fucking you, but the sloppier and faster his thrusts become and the deeper his cock kisses into your pussy the harder it is for him to actually focus, lips eventually straying away from your lips to whimper and whine pathetically in your ear. and you just find it so cute that he has to stop multiple times and take a deep breath so he doesn’t cum so soon

inexperienced!jeongin who finds it hard to listen, he knows he should prep you a little more for his dick, knows he should stretch you out a little to accommodate him, but he’s just too impatient to finally sink his cock into you to even care. and he fucking loves that you crave him just as much that you don’t either

inexperienced!jeongin who’s addicted to getting his dick sucked, he can’t keep still - fucking his hips up to force his cock deeper down your throat, deep down loving the little whimper you let out when you struggle to take him more, eyes getting glassy and looking at him so cutely but he just can’t help himself from tangling his fingers into your hair and pushing your head down even more

inexperienced!jeongin who can go for hours when you finally break him in, to the point where he’s ready for your pussy, four five times a day

inexperienced!jeongin who texts all his friends, “i had sex today, what did you losers do?” everytime you guys fuck

[pommeauromarin]

When I find a 10k+ words count, friends to lovers, where he fell first and harder, extra yearning, no smut, fluff + angst fic

[jaymang0]

Idiot YEARNS for BIGGER IDIOT

[thinemoonshine]

୨୧ 𝓵𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝓶𝐞, 𝓭𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝓵𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝓶𝐞 ୨୧

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ in which enhypen find themselves lost, listless in the dark tunnel they’re trapped in—and (y/n) is their light at the end of it

enhypen hyung line x fem!enhypen 8th member contents: fluff, enhypen clinging onto (y/n), men who yearn, crying, mentions of bad media, (y/n) comforts, heartfelt moments, enha and (y/n) are very affectionate and in love (whether platonic or romantic is up to interpretation) type: imagine

note: this work is based off of ૮꒰ྀིthis꒱ྀིა ask! and sorry i only included the hyung line :( for some reason my brain can’t think of continuations

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

“heeseung?” (y/n) mutters with confusion upon recognizing him through her door monitor.

he did ask if he could come but that was 5 minutes ago, he couldn’t already be here. but the sight of his black-masked face, capped and hooded head and doe eyes peering into the camera prove her otherwise.

she opens the door and heeseung steps inside without a word, not even a greeting and the door locks automatically behind him.

(y/n) looks up at his shadowed mien, unable to see his expression and his silence but she’s not the slightest bit intimidated. if anything, she’s worried.

“everything okay?” she asks and hee stays quiet just a little longer before wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek against her head.

he says nothing, just continuing to embrace her with a gradually tightening hold by the minute and she hears a small sigh escape him.

she doesn’t need to ask anymore. her hand reaches up to gently pat his back and he only pulls her closer against his chest. her legs are almost dangling, balancing on her toes from the unintentional hoist by heeseung as he clings and she wriggles to at least free her squashed face.

“want something to drink?” she offers and her soft voice albeit muffled rings in his ears like wind chimes and the jarring chaos in his mind goes mute.

his shoulders loosen and body turns limp against her as he drops his head onto her shoulder instead. “please.”

(y/n) chuckles with endearment and runs her hand down the back of his head—lifting his cap and hoodie in the meantime—and he hums at the feeling of her fingers massaging his overheated head.

“come on,” she says and pulls back while cupping his face—his lips jutted from her smooshing his cheeks—and she smiles at the sight of him blinking at her curiously, the knit between his brows now gone. “i have a lot of options to choose from.”

she spins on her heels again to walk ahead with a drop of her hands but just after her first step, he can feel a hand tugging against the back of her shirt. her chest lightens at the knowledge of heeseung clinging onto the fabric and the image in her head makes her chuckle and she continues on her way—not forgetting to offer him one of her hands from him to (very happily) accept by interlocking his fingers with.

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

clink!

the glass cup chimes slightly when (y/n) puts it down on jay’s bedside table.

he’s caught the flu—a really bad one—and seeing as how the others have gone out, she’s the only one available to take care of him which, in her opinion, isn’t bad at all. as much as she knows how capable the others are, she’s not sure they can nurse him without getting infected themselves or making it worse.

(y/n) gently pats jay’s heated skin with a damp towel and he stirs at that. his brows knit and lips part as a small strained breath escapes before his heavy eyes flutter open by the slightest to peer at her.

“sorry…” he croaks suddenly while she’s putting away the towel and she looks at him with soft confusion.

“what for?”

jay says nothing at first, tired and he gulps thickly. “for…burdening you. it’s your off day.”

(y/n) smiles at this and she cups his cheek—him leaning into the touch as he looks up. “i wouldn’t know what to do anyway so i’d rather take care of you any day.”

“you’re just saying that,” jay scoffs weakly, amused, but he can’t ignore the flutter he feels inside.

“i’m being honest!” the girl claims and pulls her hand away to cool his face down with the towel again. the noticeably heating skin making her worry.

jay doesn’t go back to sleep after, instead opting for watching her work as she combs his hair out of his face, fix his sheets and softly massages his hands and arms so they won’t be sore.

and suddenly, he finds his vision blurring as hot tears cascade down the corners of his eyes. his jaw’s clenched tight and he turns his face away to hide himself—a futile attempt.

“are you hurting? where is it?” she asks, concern painted on her face as she starts to run her feathery touch across his arms and shoulders to find the source.

jay only shakes his head and he inhales sharply to suppress his emotions but his debilitated self hinders him from following through. a tear turns to many and he swallows a sob into a croak.

“jay…?” (y/n) calls gingerly and cups his cheek to turn his face towards her—heart breaking at the sight of his glossy eyes and flushed, wet skin. “what’s going on?”

“it’s just t-tough,” he says vaguely. “i’m missing a lot. i—everything is just so hard. to catch up, i—”

he’s cut off by a strained sob and he brings the heels of his palms to press on his eyes. he’s not want to hide his tears, knowing that it’s a normal human thing and if any of the members was to cry, he’d rather them show it rather than hide.

but never did he imagine that what would set him off is the unabashed, limitless comfort that (y/n) spoils him with. never could he guess that the tenderness of her touches and attentiveness are what would wreck his dam—freeing the untamed turbulence of his mind.

it’s not just about being sick, missing schedules and having to catch up. it’s deeper than that—and all it took was (y/n) just being to unlock that.

and she knows.

“stop, i’m sweaty,” jay groans and pulls himself away when (y/n) started to lay herself beside him.

“i don’t care,” she chirps with a shrug and the other scoffs weakly—his lips pulling to a soft, amused smirk.

“well, you should because i’m sick and i’ll infect you,” he says hoarsely but the way his body turns and curls towards her belie his words.

she grins and brings a hand up to continue caressing his head—which he greatly favours if the way he nudges against it is any indication—before she pushes down slightly to bring him closer to the crook of her neck. “like i’d push away a chance to stay home.”

her joke manages to squeeze out a chuckle from him and the faucets of his eyes twist to a stop as his breaths deepen and relax the longer he stays in her embrace.

her scent and presence healing him more than any pills and syrup can ever achieve—his own arms curling around her and pulling her close almost to a suffocating level.

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

puppy. that’s the signature animal assigned to jake given his golden retriever tendencies and pretty, puppy eyes. not to mention the fluffy hair. but that’s all there is to it. just a label.

so why is it that he finds himself sitting outside (y/n)’s bedroom door at the vacation house like a dog put on time out?

with his knees to his chest, sad eyes staring at his toes and bottom lip jutted slightly as his mind both thinks of everything and nothing at the same time.

his eyes are wide open, awake despite the midnight hour and his ears are alert for any sound that might come from (y/n)’s room. the slightest creak makes him perk while every thud makes him turn his head quickly to check if the door’s opening.

he misses her. badly.

a while before, unable to fall asleep, he decided to do something that could make or break a celebrity’s day: search up his name. while most are of good things, he can’t simply ignore some that point out the bad—from finding the faults in his dance moves and flaws in his vocals—that absolutely kills his self-esteem.

even when these ‘negatives’ are sometimes exaggerated to the point of it actually being non-existent in the first place, he can’t help but feel belittled and…insufficient.

and in the moment, the first person that popped in his mind is (y/n). sadly, it’s 2 in the morning.

so all he can do is hide his face in his arms that are folded over his knees pulled against his chest—hoping, wishing that her presence behind the door is enough to satiate his longing.

“jake…?”

his head shoots up and he turns. an angel?

no. it’s (y/n) standing in the gap of her now open door with her oversized cartoon nightdress and a bird’s nest on top of her head. her eyes are squinting, weakened by the corridor’s light as she tries to focus on him.

“why are you sitting in front of my room?”

jake gasps softly, as if unbelieving of how his prayer has been answered and he’s quick to go on his feet. “i…wanted to see you.”

it doesn’t take a rocket genius to figure out something was wrong and she doesn’t hesitate to invite him in which he immediately accepts with his whole being—zooming through and standing in the centre of her room like a pole, waiting, before being pulled by her to sit on the edge of her bed.

“what’s up?” she asks in a murmur, the sleepiness still in her system and jake aches at the sight.

he didn’t mean to wake her. but as selfish as it sounds, part of him (most of him) can’t help but feel relieved and happy that she is.

“i just saw some comments online,” he quietly confesses as he fiddles with his fingers on his lap, embarrassed. as normal as it is, he can’t help but feel slightly ashamed that he’s so affected by some random onlookers online who probably have nothing else better to do.

yet, the moment he lifts his timid gaze up to her again, he’s almost given whiplash at how intense and sharp the glare she wears is. the drowsiness completely erased as she’s more taken by irritation.

but he knows it’s not for him. never for him. and that fact is already working as a balm to his burns.

“those people know nothing. and i mean nothing about you,” she hisses but is careful to keep her voice calm and her hands fly to cup his cheeks—smooshing them so his lips pucker and his eyes widen with surprise. she pulls him closer to her face. “they don’t know how much of a big sweetheart you are. how you’re so talented and skilled and overwhelmingly charming, handsome, beautiful that i don’t think you’re even real sometimes.”

her words make warmth spread from his chest and his cheeks start to glow a sweet red that you can almost see them even in the dim room.

“really?” he asks with a grin between his squished cheeks land (y/n) nods vigorously.

“of course! you’re such bundle of greatness that even i can’t compete with how much aura you got,” she jokes using the slang terms that make them both giggle but they know how much she actually means it.

jake’s grin seems permanent now and he lifts his hands to gently pull hers down from his face and interlock his fingers between. “you don’t have to compete. we can share.”

“oh? and you’re generous too? your great qualities are limitless!” she adds which he can’t help but titter shyly to before covering it up with a wiggle of his brows.

their soft chuckles fill the room before they’re enveloped in a calm, comforting silence.

her yawn breaks it momentarily after and jake’s just about to leave with a show of gratitude but he’s stopped when (y/n) mindlessly goes under the covers and pats the space beside her.

“slumber party~” she sleepily sings with a dopey smile and jake’s heart squeezes and pops at the sight.

slowly, he joins her and reaches to bring one of her hands to cup between his—hugging it like some kind of teddy bear as he nuzzles against it.

“thank you, (y/n),” he softly says, warm breath fanning over her knuckles when he suddenly hears a small snore escape from her.

he looks at her, surprised at how quickly she fell back to sleep before grinning, amused. his eyes fall back to her hand he holds, the noticeable size difference making him coo and he glances back up to check whether she’s still asleep before placing a loving tender kiss in her palm.

one that speaks many without words.

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

ding dong!

(y/n) heads to the door mid her night skincare routine, one hand still fixing her mask while the other presses on the monitor. “sunghoon?”

she swings the door open, able to recognize him even with the layers he wears and he lifts his head—revealing his round eyes and dark, luxuriant brows previously shadowed by his cap. “hey. you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

sunghoon shifts his weight from one foot to the other and his hands stuffed in his pocket try to dig deeper down if only his pants would allow it.

“sorry,” he muffles into the scarf wrapped around his neck and (y/n) shakes her head before opening the door wider.

“don’t be. you’re welcome anytime, i was just surprised,” she says casually with a shrug and steps back into her home let him in.

the door automatically shuts behind them and it chimes.

“make yourself at home. i’m going to finish my skincare and—“

she stops suddenly, both in her tracks and sentence before turning around with a cheeky tight-lipped smile. sunghoon blinks, also paused in the middle of freeing himself from his stuffy extra covers for discretion.

“what?” he asks, eyes wide with confusion.

“wanna do skincare with me? i’ll do all the work! you’ll be my customer like in a little beauty salon!” (y/n) offers and sunghoon’s scarf slowly drops from his shoulder as he thinks.

to be honest, he’d rather not. he wants to just lie down on the couch and rest peacefully as he basks in the cozy, homey atmosphere of (y/n)’s place.

so how’d he end up with a cold face mask on, a fluffy headband pushing his hair back and his hand being in (y/n)’s hold as she paints his nails with a serum?

“want more fruit?” she asks, focused on his fingers and he nods. without pulling her eyes away from his hand, she reaches behind to her coffee table, stabs a small cut of honeydew from its bowl before feeding it to his lips with great precision and sunghoon, still amazed as he was times before, opens his mouth to take it.

he watches as she intently applies the gloss onto his nails and cuticles, taking in the way her brows furrow slightly to how her jaw tightens and lips part whenever she realizes she’s gritting her teeth.

then suddenly she looks up and their eyes meet. his breaths hitch.

“hm?” she hums and sunghoon raises his brows in wonder before seeing his hand resting on her crown.

when did that get there?

sunghoon’s pale rosy lips part, wanting to utter the single word ‘nothing.’ like always. he can say ‘nothing.’

but why must he?

“thank you…for this. i didn’t know i needed it,” he starts and slowly pats her head. “i actually came because i was so…exhausted. i needed a break.”

he doesn’t need to specify what he means. the colours that have returned to his face, loosened shoulders and soft face speak volumes.

she’s noticed his desolate demeanor before when he came—how gaunt he was, with gaze near hollow and body language overall fatigued and strained—but she chose not to say. self care however, is one of the best home therapies she knows.

“you can rest as long as you want here,” she assures and sunghoon’s small smile stretches ever so slightly, shifting his mask and he brings his hand down to the side of her face to gently stroke her cheek.

“thank you,” he mumbles again, quieter now, almost like a mutter, and she nods before resuming her work and him resuming to watch.

he doesn’t know what exactly it is about her that allows him to be so vulnerable. whatever it is, it’s like she’s his lighthouse, saving him from going astray. a warm hearth during winter or a tongue freezing popsicle during the sweltering summer.

she’s his little respite. the first one he runs to, the first name on the tip of his tongue whenever he's losing touch with himself.

and it’s proven by how easily he finds himself falling asleep with his hand tightly holding hers and groaning softly whenever she tries to pull away. she scoffs, amused, with an endeared smile with a small whisper of “good night.”

[bertoyana]

erik + doing That Thing where he looks at charles very intently and without blinking.

[koalaflower]

For Tonight

pair. isagi yoichi x fem!reader

genre. explicit. graphic smut, angst. aged up characters.

includes. sadistic ahh reader, switch!isagi. degradation, penetration, thigh job, rough sex, mating press, slursagi appearance. he’s bipolar.

synopsis. you’re kaiser’s sister, and isagi hates you even more than the german striker.

a/n. pure filth to feed my isagi brainrot. i promise ill get to asks soon 🫡

word count. 4.1k

Isagi despises Kaiser.

He hates his smug grin, his condescending remarks, and the effortless way he toys with his opponents like they exist solely for his amusement. So when he learned that his teammate had a little sister, he was prepared to feel the same about you.

And at first, he did.

You carry the same arrogance, the same infuriating attitude that made his blood boil and stomach twist. Every word from your mouth drips with malice, every glance taunting and distracting. You thrive on pushing his buttons, watching with delight as he digs his nails into his palms and bites his tongue until metal swirls with saliva. Manipulative. Sadistic. Everything he swears he hates.

Just like your brother.

So why is he here?

He doesn’t know what compels him to your door or how he ends up pressed against the wall, his breath coming in jagged puffs of air.

“You’re insane, Y/n,” he growls like you’re the one that forced him here. Like you whispered sweet incantations into his ears and strung him along into your little mouse trap.

You tilt your head, smirking. “You came to me, Isagi.” A finger under his chin forces him to meet your gaze. He grunts in frustration, eyes narrowed into dubious crescents.

“Or did you forget?”

Before he can answer, your fingers weave into his hair, curling tight before you yank. Hard. His breath stutters, wincing as sharp pain shoots across his scalp.

He hates you. Yet his body responds with an involuntary shiver, and his pants suddenly feel too tight.

Your smirk widens, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “What were you thinking?” You lean in, breath hot against his skin. “Showing up so late at night… all alone.” Your voice is slow, deliberate. The weight of each syllable lingers, trickling over him like a scorching lava fall, melting all sense of comprehension to ashes.

His cheeks flush crimson. He should leave. He should shove you off and hurl insults at your face. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

He has no reason to be here, and you both know it.

His glare sharpens, but his voice is quieter when he speaks. “You knew I’d come.”

He knows how it sounds, weak and feeble. Here, his pride means nothing. There are no placating smiles or delicate gestures of affection. Here, he is putty slipping in and out through the divots of your hands, docile and obedient and all yours.

You hum, fingers threading through his hair in mock tenderness, smoothing the strands you just tugged. “Of course I did.”

His mind is slipping, drowning in the sensations of you. It’s overwhelming. Depraved. And yet, he leans into your touch because he loves it. Loves the way you torment him.

“I hate you,” he mutters. Neither of you believe it, but it fills the silence. “I fucking hate you, Y/n.”

He’s flushed, irritated, and painfully aware of every nerve ending, every frantic beat of his heart. He doesn’t move when you nudge his legs apart and press your bodies together.

“What would Kaiser think?”

The question is a sharp, visceral reminder of his predicament. To think he’s letting his rival’s sister touch him like this. Someone he despises with every fiber of his being. That the same blood running through his veins courses through yours.

“So nervous,” you murmur, your lips grazing his throat. “Do I scare you?”

His breath catches. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything anymore.

”Speak.”

His fingers twitch, fisting the fabric of your shirt.

“I want you.” The words slip out before he can swallow them back down.

He hardly recognizes his own voice or the pleading tone he uses. It’s hoarse, desperate. But it rips through him like it’d been on the tip of his tongue his entire life.

You pause, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he thinks you might say it back. Might tell him you want him too.

But then you laugh.

A sharp, cutting sound that makes him flinch.

“I knew it.”

You give him a look of pure disbelief, enjoying the way he shrivels under your gaze.

“You like this, don’t you?” The condescension in your tone is unbearable. Your grip tugs him closer. “Look at you, trembling like a dog in heat. Masochistic piece of shit.”

You’re so cruel. So vindictive.

His hands drop to his sides, eyes clouded with shame.

“You know,” you continue, your voice dipping lower, almost sensually. “My brother works so hard to make us money. To make himself a name.” He nods. Kaiser always pushed himself to the brink, working tirelessly to maintain his position.

“And you—” your fingers ghost over his pulse, pressing just enough to make him shudder. “—are in his way.”

He swallows hard, trying to push down the desperate whines that threaten to escape. But when you lean in, your lips barely brushing his, his body betrays him once more.

“As his sister, I just can’t let that slide.”

His head falls back against the wall when your lips begin to ravish at him, licking and nipping the soft, unblemished skin on his neck. He wants to resist, to deny you, but his body is weak and aching. Each tug of your teeth and flick of your tongue sends a jolt of pleasure down his spine.

You smile. “Is there a single defiant bone in your body?”

He’s drowning in ecstasy when your lips press against his, vision hazy as his fingers dig into your waist.

It almost consumes him, how much he desires you. How much strength it takes him not to push you against the wall and take you hard and slow. Watch the way your fluids mix as his cock slips in and out.

He shivers.

“Please. Let me touch you.” He’s pleading now, eyes glossy and all you’ve done is kiss him a little. Pride be damned, he needs release now. So badly that he’s willing to submit for it.

His cheeks are a beautiful rosy red, completely flushed and at your mercy. He can tell how much you’re enjoying this from the sadistic glint in your eye.

“What a dirty little thing.” Your smile widens, voice dripping with a saccharine tone that makes his body churn. “You’re not in a position to ask for anything, meine lieber.”

Your hand trails down his abdomen nonetheless, tracing over his prominent bulge. His lips are swollen from the kissing, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face. He’s a weak, trembling mess as you palm him, unable to stop the strangled moan that escapes.

“Ever been touched here?” You ask. His brows crease and uncrease. The answer was written all over his face, in every draw of his breath and flutter of his lashes.

“No,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He can’t deny it to you, can’t lie and pretend he’s experienced this kind of touch. Soccer has always been his top priority, and relationships were an unwelcome distraction.

Your hands slip under his shirt, grazing over every ridge of muscle he’s worked so hard to build and maintain. You leave fire in your wake, an addictive singe that makes his body arch into your touch.

He’s compliant when you take his hand and lead him further into your home, following along like a guileless puppy on a leash.

Expensive artifacts, valuable paintings, and the scent of newly bought leather. The place reeks of your brother’s money, and it screams wealth in an intentional, ostentatious way. He doesn't belong here. You’ve made that abundantly clear. But before he realizes it, he’s already standing in your bedroom.

Your legs swing over his hips, and he’s melting into the mattress in a haphazard mess of lips colliding. He’s breathless, eyes half-lidded and fixated on the way you’re perched over him.

“Touch me then,” you whisper, low and seductive as you guide his hands to your chest. “I’ll play nice.”

He obliges, hands beginning to massage and knead at the flesh. It’s soft, softer than he thought it’d be. He wants to feel it with your clothes off. With his skin against yours.

You let him slide your robe off, the satin material cascading down your limbs and pooling onto the sheets. You’re wearing nothing but your underwear, completely bare for his eyes to feast on. You planned this. It should irk him, but his mouth is dry, and all he wants to do is ravage.

He cups your breasts with his hands, drawing a sharp inhale from your lips. He’s mesmerized, captivated by the heat of your skin, the smoothness beneath his palms. Your eyes meet when he leans in to capture a pert nipple between his teeth, swirling his tongue around the areola.

“Hah… So this pretty little mouth of yours is useful.”

Just when he starts to think he might actually like you, you go and open your fucking mouth. He wants to wipe that look off your face and ruin the smug composure you wear so effortlessly.

You yank his head back, detaching his lips from your skin with a lewd pop! He glares at you, but it’s short-lived when you begin to tug at his shirt.

“Patience, Isagi.” You smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He lifts his arms for you to pull his shirt up and off over his head. His skin is flushed pink, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare chest. He can feel your gaze on him, drinking him in, and it only makes him more needy, more desperate for your attention. Your fingers trail down his torso, marveling as his abs involuntarily flex beneath your touch.

He wants to kiss you, wants to match your intensity, but he’s nervous and it shows. His technique is sloppy, tongue awkwardly swiping against your bottom lip.

You pull away from him, face filled with displeasure. He’s never seen you so disappointed, and it makes him want to sink into the ground.

“What are you doing?” You wipe the glistening strands of saliva from your lips. He flinches, chest tightening with humiliation. “You’re slobbering all over my mouth.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m trying,” he mutters, looking up at you with flushed cheeks. He can’t stand the disapproval in your tone, the condescension.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you reply, fingers threading through his hair. “Just kiss me. Like this.”

He follows your guidance, lips moving in sync as he subconsciously tugs your body closer to his. You taste like sin, and he’s indulgence, greedily lapping at the fountain of youth.

“How—How was that?” His eyes are dazed, heart pounding against his rib cage as he speaks. He wants to be enough for you. Wants to surpass your expectations.

“Better.” You scoff. “But not good enough.”

Your eyes twinkle in amusement when his face falls, leaning forward to see it clearer. “You’ll never be good enough.”

His heart sinks.

He knows this is bigger than kissing, knows it’s part of your twisted game. But it stung nonetheless.

“You’re a terrible person,” he says.

“What does that make you?”

A willing accomplice. Someone who doesn’t mind, despite the hatred flowing from his lips.

Isagi lets out a strangled moan as you grind your hips together. He can feel everything. The heat of your body. The friction. Your touch.

“I’m… nothing like you,” he strains out between heavy breaths. An obvious lie.

You ignore him, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. There’s plenty of time for him to object, to tell you he doesn’t want this and shy away. But he doesn’t. The tension lingers in the air, and he can’t deny that he craves you as much as you crave him.

He lifts his hips, slowly sliding the pants down and off. You waste no time removing the rest, his hard erection springing out of his boxers and slapping the skin on his lower abdomen. It’s embarrassing, the way pre-cum oozes from the angry red tip and slides down the sides.

You laugh in disbelief.

He came. Already. From kissing you.

“I didn’t even touch you.”

It’s humiliating. Disgusting, even. He can hardly believe it himself.

He can’t look at you, doesn’t want to see the way your face twists in satisfaction. He’s already made a fool of himself by knocking on your door.

But he can’t deny the arousal that thrums through his body when you smirk. It’s involuntary, how his cock twitches and the veins swell from beneath the surface. Part of him loves this. A dark, deep-seated desire that enjoys being belittled by you.

Your fingers wrap around his length, thumb gently gliding across the slit. His hips buck helplessly into your hand, already so overstimulated from just your touch, your body, and the way your eyes drink him in.

“Gonna cum again?” Your hand begins to pump slowly, stroking up and down until his knuckles are white against the sheets. He shakes his head no, but his breaths are flowing out of him, dick becoming painfully taut again.

He cries out when you pull away, leaving him on the precipice of release.

“Y/n…”

“You wanna cum?” You shift backward, spreading your legs open. “Do it yourself.”

His brows shoot up in surprise. You’re letting him use you? Him?

But then your legs press together, and it’s clear what you want from him. From this angle, he can see the curve of your ass and the subtle way your panties disappear between the crevice of your thighs.

Isagi groans, moving onto his knees and tugging your hips towards his. Your thighs have always fascinated him, and he almost comes undone when he slides his hard, throbbing cock between them.

He looks pitiful as he ruts back and forth, humping your thighs with his fingers digging into your skin. The material of your underwear catches against the edge of his mushroom tip, sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

“Ah… Y/n… please,” he whimpers, increasing the rhythmic pace of his hips.

There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, desperate pleas met with resounding silence.

You don’t even care.

When his eyes flutter open, you’re on your phone, looking more interested in whatever’s on your screen than his cock peeking in and out between your legs.

You were letting him use you. Like a toy.

And yet, the sight makes him more aroused, beads of white oozing from his slit.

He presses your legs closer together, thrusts becoming haphazard before he lets out a guttural moan and spills hot, sticky semen all over your abdomen.

You’re unimpressed.

You toss your phone to the side, giving him a bored, disinterested look. “Done already?”

“Come on, liebling,” you taunt, grinning. “Surely you can do better than that?”

He hates how you’ve turned a term of endearment into something so derogatory, so crude. It haunts him at night, creeps into his dreams as pretenses of affection.

Even when he’s vulnerable, even when you’ve stripped him bare and reduced him to nothing, you’re still the same asshole he’s always known. It shouldn’t surprise him. You were Michael Kaiser’s sister, after all.

But even then, a fire ignites in his chest. An untamed fury that only ever overtakes him during the heat of a match.

“You want better?” His eyes are blown wide with lust, unrecognizable as he lays you down, reveling in the way your back hits the mattress and your hair sprawls over the sheets.

You gasp softly as his finger hooks into your panties and tears it off with ease.

He thumbs apart your glinting folds, taking in the way your core flutters beneath his hungry gaze. You look good enough to eat, and he’s beyond the point of pleasantries as he drags a teasing finger down your slit.

He scoffs.

If you won’t shut up, he’ll just have to fuck the submission into you.

Inch by delicious inch.

“I’ll make you cry.”

“Shit! Isa—gi, mmph!”

Isagi has you folded in half, cock thrusting in and out of you at lightning speed.

You’re clawing the sheets, arching your back and holding on for dear life as he fucks you into the mattress raw.

He doesn’t slow, even as your legs wrap tighter around his torso, and you finally understand what Kaiser meant by an athlete’s stamina.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spits, reaching down to pinch your swollen clit. You’re a sputtering, mewling mess as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Think you can…ngh… speak to me like that? Think you’re ‘nvincible?”

The intensity of his words burn with what could only be described as hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.

He despises you. So fucking much.

He pulls all the way out before slamming back in, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside your velvet walls. He’s a fast learner, already adapting to where you’d like him most.

“You’re jus’ like him.”

The way your expression twists in pleasure, the obscene squelching of your combined juices… it brings him more satisfaction than he thought.

“You think you’re so smart,” he gasps, beads of sweat dripping onto your soft, pliant body. “So cunning and manipulative. And I just…ngh… can’t stand your stupid, arrogant attitude.”

He buries his face in your neck, growling as he nips and bites at your collarbone. His kisses are sloppy, leaving behind angry red marks.

“Jus’ have to constantly test me, don’t you? Taunt me, get under my skin, mess with my head…”

You’re barely listening as he rambles on, his words brimming with obvious irritation. You feel it in every movement, every snap of his hips.

“Think you’re tough shit just ‘cause… your brother’s Kaiser?” He’s leaving open-mouthed kisses down your chest, an act of tenderness lost in reckless abandon.

“‘sagi!” You mewl, gripping onto his shoulders. “Jus’ like.. mm.. that..!”

“Yeah? That feel good? Ngh… you like that?”

He shifts his hips and you almost sob.

“Hm?” He grins, licking a long, wet stripe up the side of your throat. “This the spot?’

He angles himself, hitting the sweet spot that makes you see stars like it’s his goal to see you unravel.

“Still… ngh… with me, Y/n?”

Again. And again. And again.

Your eyes roll back into your skull, nails raking red lines down his skin. His cock is nestled snugly against your cervix, thrusting deep inside of you.

He smirks, a cocky, arrogant thing as his thumb swipes over your parted lips.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles, staring down at you. Your makeup is smeared, saliva dribbling past your chin.

“Hate you..! Such a fucking dick. Good for… ah!… nothing…” You trail off, your words an incoherent, babbling mess. It’s a feeble attempt at regaining control, and he knows it.

He scoffs. “You talk too much.”

“Gonna shut you up.” He drags the hood of your folds back, thumbing at the engorged nub.

It makes your back arch, chest tightening. Gone is the arrogance and attitude, replaced with a submissive, primal desire. There’s a perverse satisfaction in seeing you so wrecked, shattered from his actions. He’s starting to think like you.

“Deeper! Isa—gi!”

He loves the way his name glides off your tongue like an illicit drug he can’t get enough of. It’s poison, the way you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Your touch is lethal—dangerous enough that he should walk away, but he craves the downfall, addicted to the slow, inevitable ruin.

“You… hahh… want me deeper?” He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pushing them even further against your chest. “Dunno if this cunt will let me.”

But he adjusts himself easily, pistoning into you with an insatiable drive.

You cry out his name, and he knows he’s found the right spot. The one that makes you twitch and sob.

“‘m gonna—!” You struggle to find the right words, but he knows.

He’s right there with you.

“Gonna what?” He circles the bundle of nerves just barely, watching as your body jolts in response.

“—cum!”

He’s mesmerized by the way his shaft sinks in and out of you, a ring of frothy white forming around the base.

He grunts, fingers digging into your thighs. “Come for me then.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Your orgasm crashes over you violently, body convulsing as your nails leave crescent-shaped indents onto his skin. He’s still moving, eyes squeezed shut as he lets you ride out your high.

“Shit. So tight…”

A few more desperate thrusts, and then his breath shutters, hips faltering as he pumps into you.

You both stay there, panting as you hang onto the passion of the moment. Eventually, he withdraws, letting the creamy white fluids seep out of your spasming hole.

There are no snarky remarks, no passing taunts. Just the whirring hum of the ceiling fan and your ragged breaths.

It should satisfy him, should bring some sense of closure, but all he feels is nothingness. A deafening silence.

Was this your plan all along? To pull him in, have him at your mercy, and leave him with nothing? Will you tell Kaiser? Recount how easily he unraveled for you?

There you are, lying beneath him, naked and glowing in the aftermath. You look angelic, disheveled hair fanning your face like a golden halo. He could almost love you. Almost.

But it’s not real. Your eyes are sharp, calculating. You could never love anyone other than yourself. That’s just not who you are, and he knows it well.

You shift, propping yourself onto an elbow as he rolls off you, retreating to the edge of the bed. The space between you is cold, despite the passionate lovemaking you just shared. Your gaze lingers on the sculpted lines of his back, watching as he reaches for his discarded shirt and pulls it over his head.

It’s such a simple action, but you can see the fatigue in his movement, in every shift of his muscles. You don’t know what it is that consumes you at that moment. Regret, maybe? Sympathy?

“What are you doing?”

He startles at the sound of your voice, still hoarse and airy from earlier. His eyes have faded back into their natural deep blues, boring into you with stoic indifference.

Usually, you would mock him, slide your hands down his back, throw out an insult just to get under his skin. But you can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

“Getting dressed,” he replies, easing into his jeans. “Need a demonstration?”

You almost flinch at his cutting tone. It’s unlike the hesitant, shy one you’ve grown fond of.

“Why?” You sit up as well, slipping on your silk robe.

He raises a brow. “I have practice in the morning.”

Perhaps you’ve pushed him too far, past the point of apologies. But your chest aches with something unfamiliar, a quiet desperation.

“It’s late,” you start, and the words keep spilling out, too heavy to swallow back down. You’re sinking, drowning in bitter consequence. “You can leave in the morning.”

The vulnerability that flickers in your eyes and the tender way your fingers curl around his wrist isn’t lost on him. You’re a brash, spiteful woman, tainted by money and influence. You have no space for him, no room for change. He has to leave before you corrupt him too.

So why do you look so small? So innocent?

Your fingers tighten. Just barely. “Don’t go.”

“But...”

“I’ll call Kaiser.” It’s quiet. Needy. You hate the way it sounds. Hates the bitter taste it leaves on your tongue. “I’ll tell him to excuse you.”

“Just stay here. For tonight.”

He looks at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of deceit, but he finds none. All he sees is a little girl that’s never felt a warmth that lingered, like a dwindling flame in a raging storm. He can’t help but soften. Just a little.

After a while, he finally replies.

“…Okay.”

He nods, a quiet resignation settling over him. It’s a mistake, he tells himself. But there’s something in your expression that worms into his heart, slipping under his defenses.

“For tonight,” he echoes.

Isagi lies down beside you, the bed dipping under his weight.

It’s a mess of wrinkled sheets and scattered pillows, but neither of you care. You switch off the light, and he lets you drape the blanket over his tired body.

He knows that when morning comes, this will all be gone. He’ll slip away for practice and you’ll remain here, alone in your empty castle. He won’t let himself hope. Not for someone like you.

But for tonight, he allows himself to savor the warmth of your body against his, to indulge in this fleeting moment of intimacy. He wraps his arm around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Just until the night ends.

[richter-kale]

dug up an old scogan doodle to celebrate the new wolverine film :}

[vieviehime]

normal people: "i love you"

these two, for some fuckass reason:

[treviso-nights]

mmmmm thinking about rook having a little more time with illario in the first two acts of veilguard, where they can exchange minute but meaningful conversation surrounding the ideas of purpose and internal desire, and then also thinking about illario's boss fight in act three where illario strikes out at rook but freezes when his blades connect, where his eyes shoot wide open in shock and also horror because his fight is not with them, so why is he fighting them, why is he fighting rook when rook had been the only person to ever hear his inner yearning and not judge him for it, and what has he done now, what should he do now, is he really going to kill someone who finally feels like home

[stuntujeskladakiem]

Dracula gently holds his boyfriend

[fauxunraveling]

my gothic horror soulmates <3

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

To be honest, I would let Cassandra Nova do unspeakable things to me.

[shoyododo]

see u in my dreams, maybe

shoyo hinata is a big dreamer, both literally and figuratively. he has grand ambitions as a volleyball player, which has led him to where he is now. he’s accomplished his biggest dream of joining a pro team, being able to play with his old buddies once again.

during the day, he’s practicing with his teammates, having the time of his life. he’s always present in the moment and ready for the upcoming future. if you ask him, he'd say he couldn't be any happier.

as soon as night hits, the moment he rests his eyes, he’s haunted by dreams of the past. behind closed eyes, the memories play on repeat.

he sees your face, a wide smile adorning your beautiful features. he sees you on the back of his bike, hair blowing in the wind, holding onto him for dear life. he hears your carefree laugh, the one that makes his chest warm, the one he misses so dearly. he feels your hands running through his hair, head in your lap while you’re whispering affections made for his ears only. his dreams are so vivid, like he’s travelled back in time. it almost feels like you’re here with him. almost.

by the time he wakes up, he has to come to terms with the fact that he’s alone. an empty feeling fills his chest when he turns to side to side and you’re not there.

that night in particular, he dreams of your last night together. your shaking figure, sobbing into his shirt as he hugs you tightly with his face buried in your hair. your hands are cupping his face, fingers delicately wiping his tears away as you tell him that you’re always going to be proud of him, no matter what. you share one last kiss before he wakes up to reality, the harsh reality in which he hasn’t heard from you since that night.

sometimes, the feeling of longing becomes too much. he looks for your number and presses ‘call’, but it never goes through. his texts remain undelivered. he assumes you changed your number, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. he has no idea where you are now. maybe you moved to a new city, a new country, even. he hopes wherever you sleep now, you see him too.

his one comfort is knowing that when he goes to bed tonight, he’ll get to see you again.

[theo-throne]

They are my yearning final bosses