#LOVE THEM FOREVA

[emomomortal]

apple on your head!! apple on your head!!

[kyurochurro]

TNG character sketches!! been wanting to draw this crew for a hot sec so I got around to it at 3 am last nite… LOL

(also I haven’t started tng yet but hey I dedicate this to my DAD big tng fan first Trekkie I ever met SHOUTOUT TO YOU DAD 🗣️)

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[camellcat]

clara oswin oswald I love u I love u foreva !!!!

[chiistarri]

i need kaedehara kazuha i crave him

[hurlingdown]

tags. soft dom! reader, bottom male character. riding, praise kink.

thinking about teaching a pillow princess how to ride. 

“i c-can’t do it,” he hiccups, holding back a sob, shaking his head as he lifts his hips the best he can on quivery knees, hands poised tightly on your shoulders. you can tell he’s trying, but he can’t even make it all the way to the tip, knees buckling halfway and plummeting back onto your cock as he gargles, loud. “f-feels weird. ‘s too much, baby, i c-can’t.” 

he’s all slicked up, glide easy, but you’re big and girthy and he’s never had someone stretch him out this way before. he wants to be good for you, but it’s so hard. 

“you can,” you murmur, guiding his hips forward in a slow, sensual arch, “don’t bounce, ah-ah, not like that. riding is all about the rolling, sweetheart.” 

he chokes out a soft mewl as he gives an experimental roll forwards, the bulbous head of your cock massaging his stomach walls, making him want to clench. he inches forward, and the right angle sends sparkles floating past his eyes as he gives in the urge to roll them back. “o-oh. that feels reaally good.” 

“feels that good, mm?” you whisper, peppering gentle kisses on his neck as a small reward, making him squirm and giggle in his haze of pleasure. “now try pushing your hips downwards a little when you roll forward. can you do that for me?” 

“y-yeah,” he swallows, obediently pressing his hips against yours snugly every time he grinds forward, the tip of his leaking cock bumping into your abdomen with every circular motion, whimpers bubbling out of parted lips. he’s never felt pleasure this good. he’s panting, no longer trying to pace himself, making little bunny jerks forward as he chases after the addictive feeling of a hard cock moving deep inside him. “oh, hn, ah, s-so good, b-baby.” 

“yeah, that’s it, gorgeous,” you murmur, giving his hips and thighs an encouraging squeeze now and then, and he whines lightly in response, “you’re an absolute natural, love. m-made for riding cock. told you you could do it.” 

“i amm?” he slurs, lidded eyes unable to focus, little breaths pushed out with every jolt while he continues to ride you like he’s been doing it for years, letting out lewd wails whenever you hit his spot just a little too good. “g-gonna, hngh, ride this dick foreva.” 

“good boy,” you mutter fondly, “i’ll keep you here forever, then. keep going, i’m about to cum.” 

masterlist!

[bi-writes]

Your MOB au gives me so many butterflies 🥴 I hear the key to a long and happy marriage is to be with someone you think is funny. How do you think Simon and his wife make each other laugh? I can see them being the couple that gossips while people watching or MOB wrangles Simon in bed to show him funny cat videos on her phone.

mail-order bride

simon likes spending time with you without screens. he does love watching a movie with you, but one of his favorite ways to spend time with you is to open a little closet of board games and play one of them with you. he'll put on a little music, spread out the game, and you usually spend the evening sitting in his lap and playing either on the couch or on the floor using the coffee table or at the dining table.

"simon, what would you do if i was a worm?"

simon raises a brow, fitting a corner piece of the puzzle into place. he snorts a bit.

"wot are y'on, love?"

"i'm serious!" you laugh. "what would you do if i was a worm?"

"step on you, baby. you'd be a fuckin' worm. gross."

you pout a little, dramatically, and simon winks at you.

"olright, love. i'd put ya in a little box and cherish ya foreva. tha' wot y'wanna hear?"

you giggle, settling in his lap, picking up an edge piece and putting it in its spot.

"yeah. that's what i wanna hear."

"simon, look."

you hold out your phone in bed, shoving it in his face. he grunts a little, squinting at the bright screen, and he raises a brow as he watches a compilation of orange cat videos put together. he chuckles a little when he sees it, leaning over the bed and planting a kiss on your cheek. he rolls over onto his side, curling a big arm around your waist and pulling you back into his chest. he tucks his face over your shoulder, leaning over you, and you spend the better part of an hour giggling to yourself as you show simon the collection of videos on your feed.

the next morning, your phone pings while simon is away on base. you hurry out of the kitchen, wiping your floury hands on the apron you wear before seeing a request for a new follower.

you open the app, raising a brow when you look at the account without a profile picture asking to follow your private account.

pumpkin__eater141 wants to follow you.

you click on the profile, rolling your eyes when you see the only picture on the account a very grainy, filtered photo of two sergeants sticking their tongues out and holding up bunny ears behind each other. in the background, very blurry, you can see a glimpse of a skeleton-bone painted glove holding up a middle finger. the caption reads wankerzzz!!!!

the account has 1 follower (sudz_n_budz141), and it follows none, and you can't help but smile when you see the profile has nothing but a cherry emoji as the description.

you accept the follow request, and you follow them back. the whole day, every so often, you get a new video as a direct message. when you finish with the sourdough and leave it to rise, you start to scroll through the intermittent messages you've already gotten.

more cat videos. crazy dashcam footage with the comment "fuckin' mad." some woman who makes crockpot meals with every kind of bagged cheese you can get at the store on high for five hours.

you can't stop smiling. and when you pull out a pot to make dinner later, you and simon make eye contact before laughing.

"olright, baby, which one ya want?" simon murmurs, nuzzling his mask against your cheek. you giggle, looking up at the display. there's stuffed bears, big squishmallows, pillows. you reach a hand up behind you and caress the back of his neck, biting your lip until you point up at the big cherry squishmallow hanging by the top.

"gotta hit all the glasses to get that one, mate," the attendant says, and you look over your shoulder up at him.

"ooooo...not sure if you can hit all your targets, lieutenant riley?" you ask, and simon snorts, kissing your jaw through the mask before making his way towards the game counter. he picks up the toy rifle, adjusting it in his grip before holding the sight up and taking his stance. you bite your lip watching him. he looks incredibly sexy with that thing in his arms, even if its a fake. it's even sexier hearing the bell ring and watching your husband with terrifying precision knock every glass bottle down. one after the other, each glass falls, and you squeeze your legs together slightly as he goes for a bonus round and knocks them all over again, even quicker.

he turns around when he has your prize in his hands, a big fluffy cherry with a little smile and a little green leaf hat. you squeeze it to your chest before standing on your toes, and simon leans down to peck your lips through the mask. he wraps a big arm around your waist, and when you both pull back, you can't help your big smile, the laughter, that sweet, pretty shine in your eyes.

simon laughs, too.

it's easy when you're this happy.

[6gumi]

spread ‘em further, baby.

⋆.˚ NSFW . wc. 784 . IL dan heng ( imbibitor lunae ) x f!reader 、size k!nk 、double penetration 、established relationship 、pussydrunk!danheng & big dick!dan heng in da same frame . . . — 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 : “ anotha’ sillie thirst ! hehe been thinkin’ about dan heng’s tail keepin’ your legs spread out so nicely since foreva x-x “

IL DAN HENG was a patient man, and you knew that. well, at least that’s what you thought. his patience can be nothing more than a distraction for how he truly feels, harboring his emotions . . . harboring his own wants and his true desires, just to keep himself from losing control. but that brings a question . . . can and could he really control himself ?

this, on your part, was truly a mistake.

even so, dan heng’s heart swelled with gratitude when you put your trust in him. his dick twitched against his body . . . his massive form dwarfing your small frame. his nostrils flaring as he caught your scent, cursing himself for getting aroused by it. his tail flicked gently, providing a subtle warmth that enveloped your body from below. “so small, so perfect.” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he carefully positioned himself between your drenched thighs, one of his throbbing cocks nudging against your entrance with pure excitement . . . desperate to please you. “ . . . you can handle two of me, can you baby?” you paused and nodded slowly . . . feeling your cunt squeezing around nothing just by thinking about that . . . but hey ? what could go so wrong ?

“. . . i might break you, my love,” dan heng murmured softly against your ear, his teeth biting down your earlobe . . . sliding his two lengths deep inside your yearning hole as the massive girth of his cocks filled you up almost completely. each swift motion of his thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, the intensity of the experience unlike anything you had ever known. he was big, and you were sure he knew that. despite how big he was compared to you, his movements were slow and deliberate, focused on ensuring your pleasure rather than his own. his powerful muscles flexed with each thrust, his body moving with a primal grace. your boyfriend’s breath came in deep, ragged pants, his mind focused solely on the task at hand. “f—fuck . . . this pussy’s driving me crazy. look, it’s driving them crazy too.”

“d—dan heng . . .” your moans and cries of ecstasy filled his room, your hands gripping his horns as your body arched to meet each thrust. dan heng knew his own satisfaction was secondary to your pleasure, he could feel himself licking his lips when he gazed down and admired your sweaty body beneath the moonlight . . . his powerful form moving in sync with yours, entwined in a passionate dance that transcends the heavens. he explored the depths of your heat, your sweet pussy he’d been craving all day. his size was overwhelming, to say the least . . . overwhelming in the best way possible. his tongue flicked out, licking your neck gently, his breath hot against your supple skin.

“spread them further, baby.”

with a sudden flick of muscles, his powerful tail lifted your legs, spreading them wide . . . the tip of his tail gently prodding your outer folds, providing an additional source of pleasure. your boyfriend shifted his position, granting him better access to your fully exposed entrance . . . positioning you in a way that allows deeper penetration. the warmth of the scales on his tail against your flesh provided a pleasant, almost comforting sensation. both cocks throbbed, the sight of his beloved’s legs spread out like that turned him on. the tip of his first cock nudged against your bud, the swollen head already slick from your previous coupling. with the utmost care, dan heng pressed forward, the size of his dick stretching you once again . . . the familiar friction igniting the fires of desire in both of you.

“you’re s—so good to me, my love . . . so so good.” slowly and steadily, your boyfriend began to move again, his thrusts deliberate and precise . . . this new angle causing delightful sensations to ripple through you both. your hands, that were roaming through his horns, found purchase around his neck, gripping tightly as the pleasure intensified. “you’re so good at taking my cock . . mmh—both of them.” his breathing and yours, completely synchronized . . . his pretty eyes locked on yours while his heart pounded against his ribcage. with a guttural growl, he quickened his pace, in a hurry to fill you up. the rhythm of your lovemaking reaching it’s peak. he could feel his tip brushing against your most sensitive areas, desperate to fuck and find them all. the vidyadhara’s powerful tail squeezed your legs tighter, holding you in place as he drove into you with renewed vigor.

“you seem to enjoy the fact that i use my tail to spread you out so nicely . . .” dan heng leaned down, his face close to yours, breaths mingling as his body collided with yours in a passionate dance. “hm . . . should i spread you out wider then?”

© 6GUMI 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[lewisvinga]

#1 defender | yuki tsunoda x fem! reader

summary; y/n will always defend yuki

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; yuki hate, cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested !

masterlist !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly, and others !

yourusername: my pretty boy, will defend u foreva ❤️‍🩹

tagged; yukitsunoda0511

yukitsunoda: i love you!

yourusername: and i love you !!!

username: MY PARWNTS PLS

username: i love them so bad😫

username: y/n is so real for that tbh

pierregasly: can’t even joke around w the guy fr 😒😒😒

yourusername: watch ur back gasly or else..

username: not her threatening pierre 😭😭

yukitsunoda0511: username its a daily occurrence between the two tbh

[maskedbutsilly]

RAHHHHHHHHHHHH MY BABY BOYSSSSS U DREW THEM SO WELLLLLK ‼️‼️😭😭😭😿😿😿UR INTERPRETATION OF THEM IS SO ON POINT !!!! WIL WOULD DEFINITELY TRY RIZZING Q AND FAIL🤦‼️Q IN MANBUN,,,!! SILLY ANIME WILBUR,,,,,, HIM WITH MAKEUP,,,,,, THE SECOND DRAWING IS LITERALLY HOW WIL SEES Q ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

AND THE COMICCCC IS SOO DAMN ADORABLE HUHUHUHU 😖😖😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💥💥💥⁉️⁉️☝️🖕🤦😌😭☝️✋💪👀🤦🤗🥲 UR ART IS SO GOOD SIR MERCY SIR MERCY HOW AM I GETTING THESE FOR FREE?!!1!1!1!1!

👁👁 Hey hey hey hye hey. By the way. Would you by chance have any personal tntduo ☣🔥🐤au 🤽‍♂ references that you casually drop and leave behind in a 🕵sketchy looking restaurant on a table ⛩. For a passing by 🎨🧑‍🎨artist to happen to pick up, totally not 🙅‍♂ planned🎫- obviously, most 🙄 *obviously* 🙄an in the moment flurry of impulse- and use for crime😈?

In other words grabby hands im dying would u mind giving me ur little dudes just for a sec i promise ill take good care of them🥺

well 😦🦅😁since 😗u asked so nicely🤪😋😛😘 i might😽 have some 😛lying around 😳😳i trust🫡 that youll ☝️take good 👍🤲care of them😽🤲😾

i have.SO many aus. sad thing is, evej if the aus are fleshed out, i dont have designs for them at all. they just live in my brain 🙏🙏. anywhays i sketched this as quickly as possible for u dott mwah 🙏

INFODUMP UNDERNEATH WOO

RUNAWAY MODEL AU BC YESSSSSSSSSS ‼️‼️‼️ wil is a model that ran way bc of the toxic workplace and ended up in the arms of quackity, an underpaid bartender in nyc. wil screams pretty boy vibes and q is just. tired man. with chronic headaches. and eyebags. wil thinks he is the most beautiful man hes even seen

[jubburb]

》 "-ARE YOU COLD, MY DEAR?"

• @jubburb

ask: none.

sypnosis: waking up with your husband one morning and going on a walk in the snow.

a/n: ive been procrastinating this foreva, ik its short but I just want this out of the drafts so I can start writing more fics😼

warnings: female reader in mind when writing, but I'm not sure if I put any fem pronouns, just cute fluffy fluffness 😺

notes: ooc zhongli? definitely? maybe? idk.. u tell me

When fall hits Liyue, it can get pretty chilly pretty fast. The degrees quickly drop to fifty degrees and lower, previously being in around the eighties or nineties.

It's quite a sudden change. But a pleasant one, especially for tourists who come around during the seasons.

-

One quiet morning, you and your husband, Zhongli, are lazing about in your shared king bed. Zhongli was reading a book, idly playing with your hair with one hand, while you were still trying to wake up, laying your head on his broad chest.

"Mm.." You groan sleepily, reaching a hand up to rub your eye.

"Are you finally awake, my dear?" Zhongli chuckles, halting his hand that was intertwined with the tresses of your hair.

You simply nod, yawning, and sit up against his chest, feeling his hand snake around your waist to hold you closer.

"Do you have work today?" You ask, blinking a couple of times to actually fully wake up, staring up at him and he nods with a hum.

"I am, in fact, off today. What do you suppose we do?" He asks, placing the book down to give you his full attention.

"Sleep in?" You request with a chuckle, and Zhongli jokingly sighs, shaking his head no.

"Something productive, please, my dear." He says, playing with a strand of your hair once more.

"Sleeping is productive, Li." You retort, rolling your eyes, tempted to fall back into a deep slumber just to spite your husband.

There's silence for a moment as Zhongli thinks.

"-Oh, I know, what about a walk around the harbor? I'm sure nobody is awake during these early hours, so it'll be calm, quiet, and peaceful. Just the two of us." Zhongli smiles, cupping your cheek, his slightly calloused palm brushing against your soft skin.

"..Thats.." You start, ".. Not that bad of an idea."

"Knew it."

You only roll your eyes at his response, "Well, I guess we better get our lazy asses out of bed before it's too late and people start getting to work."

"You're the only lazy ass here." Zhongli chuckles with a whisper under his breath, getting out of bed before you could do anything about what he said.

"Oh you mother-"

-

As you two walk around the harbor, you did not expect it to start snowing..

The pretty white snowflakes started to dance across the sky before ultimately finding use on the ground, creating a soft blanket of snow covering the docks and pathways.

Aaaaand.. you forgot your mittens.. your hands were freezing, but if you told Zhongli, he would give you that: "i tOld yOu sO" bullshit.

Before you guys even left the house, Zhongli insisted you bring mittens, because, to quote him, "You don't even know how cold it is in the morning, love."

And of course, you just had to defy him, insisting that you'll be fine without mittens.

You really regret it now..

Even though you were clad in a comfy coat, your hands that were freezing seemed to freeze your entire body, and you were quivering every step you and your husband took as you walked around.

Zhongli looked through the shop windows, not really seeming to notice at first, but then he eventually heard your teeth starting to chatter together, and glanced back at you.

"..Are you cold, my dear?" Zhongli asks, staring at you with a concerned look.

"I-m f-ine.." You respond, your teeth clamming together continuously.

He glances down at your hands that were trembling the most, reaching his mitten covered hands hold them, and you immediately feel a sense of relief.

Zhongli smiles softly, chuckling a bit, and leaned forward to kiss your forehead, "I told you to wear the mittens."

"I kn-ow.." You chatter, before moving closer to cuddle into his chest, the two of you still holding hands, standing there for a while in the wintery streets.

Zhongli hums softly, his nose nuzzled into your hair as he smells your shampoo and conditioner, snow falling over his long brown hair and back.

You could fall asleep right there in the arms of your husband, but you'd rather get home before you get all lovey dovey, so you pull away, looking up at his handsome amber eyes.

"Let's head back, Li.." You say, and Zhongli nods, continuing to hold your hand.

He even not-so discreetly maneuvered it into the large pocket of his coat, so your hand could be even warmer as you two walked.

You smile softly, and lean your head on your husband's shoulder.

The two of you only left footsteps in your wake as you find comfort in eachother.

- signed by c♡

[luveline]

kiss over the interweb with sirius! him and reader have been together for awhile maybe since they were like 18/19 and them and being still super in love foreva! cliche couple loveliness

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader, 1k

Sirius' hair looks blue-black in the light. His smile shines mega watt gorgeous and his laugh bounces between pint glasses and plates of half eaten dinner. He's at the head of a long, long table, his friends and friend's friends turned out for a celebration of him. You aren't half as loud nor confident, but when he insisted you sit squished beside him, you couldn't say no. 

"Where the hell have you been?" he questions, grabbing your waist as soon as you walk close enough. Any conversation he led swiftly pauses. "This is the worst birthday ever, babe, you keep disappearing." 

Sirius has kept you within arm's reach for the last five years and it doesn't matter, he yanks you into his lap and kisses your cheek, careful not to mess with your makeup. His hand slides down to your hand where he twists your engagement ring around your finger. You're happy to get married but you're not in any big rush. Sirius, on the other hand, is desperate to get you down the aisle. Has been for years. 

"Can't believe you're twenty four," you say, unbothered by the weight of tens of eyes on you as you take his face into your hands. You could draw him from memory. You could do it with your eyes closed. "You're finally growing into your nose." 

Sirius (who, for the record, has an extremely handsome nose), beams at you. "You love this nose." 

"I do." Sorry to his friends, but you share a gross, amazing kiss right then and there. 

"Is that legal?" James asks. 

"No." Remus clinks his drink against James'. "Will you get me another lemonade and blackcurrant, please? My legs hurt." 

Sirius laughs into your mouth as James says, "No they don't. You're just lazy today. I know the difference." 

"Will you get me one anyways? Please, James, I love you." 

"They're almost as in love as we are," Sirius says, encouraging you back gently. "And we're sick." 

You ease off of his lap and back into your seat. You've already sectioned off the lettuce and tomatoes from your salad for his perusal, and laying on a napkin by your plate is the extra fork you asked for and they forgot to give you. "Where'd you get this?" you ask. 

"That's how long you took! Finish your food, doll, before it's stone cold." 

You eat your food but he keeps distracting you. Even when he's talking to people he's squeezing your thigh under the table or bringing the salt shaker closer to you. You shove your plate away when things get too cold to soldier on, dragged into a conversation with Mary sitting to your left and her girlfriend Emmeline. 

Sirius has always had a good bunch of friends. He's never made you feel like an outsider when you're with them, and you think they might actually really like you. You'd hope it, after this long together.

"Sweetness," Sirius says, wrapping his arms over your shoulders heavily, "another drink? And dessert, too, what dessert do you want?" He kisses your cheek between questions, gets distracted, stops asking and just hugs you to his chest for a bit. 

"This is nice, huh?" you ask quietly. 

He squishes you. "I'm gonna go get you another drink and then it'll be perfect." 

You check your watch covertly, and, a master of trickery, turn into his arms to blag a kiss. The funny breathless feeling of his embrace starts to bloom in your chest, alive and well despite the thousands of days spent within it. He's your other half, your found piece, and every minute with him carries a shine that refuses to waver. Things calm down, of course, but you don't doubt for a moment that Sirius is as in sickening love with you as you are with him. The honeymoon phase has lingered like the heat of a long kiss. 

"Happy birthday," you say as you pull away. 

"Thank you. You know, I feel very lucky. I hope you know that." 

You do. And you're glad he wants to tell you but maybe not in front of so many people, which is why the restaurant staff's perfect timing saves the day. Two waitresses carry a white piece of solid plastic and atop it waits your big surprise; a birthday cake with twenty four candles, three tiers of his favorite flavours, coffee, lemon, and plain chocolate fudge. The frosting for each is real buttercream to compliment the sponge, because fondant is for losers and you know what your baby likes. The candles flicker bright as the waitresses begin to sing, and for a solid five seconds, while all his friends join in, celebrating him and him alone, he turns his head to smile at you. 

His smile quickly turns to a glare. But, ever a good sport, Sirius pushes aside your plates for the cake to be bestowed and blows out the candles soundtracked by a raucous wave of cheers. 

"Hip hip!" James shouts. 

You wince at the sheet volume of the answering hurray, but Sirius is laughing, and that's all that matters. 

"First slice for my gorgeous fiancé!" he declares. "I wouldn't be in such good spirits nor state if she weren't with me today. I love you, sweetheart." 

Your cheeks flush with pride. "I love you," you say, receiving his quick kiss eagerly. 

"Don't get spit on the cake, lovebirds! Bagsy the second slice." 

"You can't bagsy the second slice, James, it's his birthday," Mathilde laughs. 

"Look, if he wanted the second slice, he should've said. I gave him loads of time to jump in. What flavours did you get, Y/N? You know what, don't tell me. I trust your judgement." 

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[e-hibiscus]

IM EATING GOOD 🤯 HOLY SHIT

M’rolling around in bed and giggling like an idiot 😭😭😫😫😫😫

Ive been laying here rereading it as i write 😭 Imma beat u up sev (affectionately) cause 🫵 CANT DO THIS TO ME 😭 THANK YOU FOREVER

🛐 first blessing me with a god damn yummy CHARACTER and NOW this‼️😫 AAAAAVAGHGGGGHHHHHHWWWWW

ARCHIVIST’S RECORDS: FAFNIR [HSR], 002

cw. [NSFT][MDNI], generally mild and suggestive at best but adding the cw just to be safe

this record involves @spirit-lanterns’s incredible casino AU and @e-hibiscus’s bunny oc misha! they’re both amazing creators 100% worth checking out!

“You know, I’ve heard about you,” Fafnir hums, trailing a hand down Misha’s thigh as the bunny perches on her lap. The dragoness's touch is warm, even through the expensive leather of her gloves.

“Yeah?” she responds breathily, placing her hands on the other woman’s waist to steady herself. Fafnir’s abdomen is firm under her hands, and she actively has to tamp down the urge to pop those buttons off right here and now to see what lay beneath.

“Yeah,” Fafnir croons, the hand on her thigh coming to rest at Misha’s hip. Her grip is firm, possessive, keeping her decidedly in place on her lap—and it sends an electric thrill shooting up Misha’s spine. “I heard that you’re an odd little bunny—that you like to watch your patrons lose instead of win.”

A giggle escapes her lips at the (entirely true) accusation. “Ah, well—you got me.”

“Hm,” the dragoness hums, and something shifts in her eyes. They go from glittery gold, the kind befitting jewelry, to molten pools swirling with dangerous, devouring heat. Fafnir leans forward, close enough to whisper right into one of Misha’s ears, sharp teeth grazing the pink fluff.

“So you think I’m going to lose, little rabbit?”

Her heart thunders in her chest, and she swallows. Her veins feel alight with excitement, and her arms wander up to loop around the dragoness’s neck. Fafnir is so close now, and Misha can feel the wisps of heat emanating through that dark, sinfully well-tailored and form-fitting suit of hers.

“Maybe your luck will run out this time,” she challenges, and it pulls a low, hissing laugh from Fafnir while the dragoness's hand cards through her pretty, pink hair.

“Bold little thing, aren’t you?” Fafnir muses, pulling back to casually lean in her chair again, as if she wasn’t betting millions on the Blackjack game before her. Those golden eyes were fixed on her and her only—it shouldn’t be as fucking thrilling as it is, but Misha’s blood sings nonetheless.

“Let’s make a bet, little rabbit,” Fafnir offers, her tail curling on the floor, scales shimmering like jewels in the low light. “If and when I win, I get to have you as my reward.”

“Wow, confident. And if you lose?”

The grip on her hip tightens by a fraction, before it relaxes again. Misha has spent long enough in a casino to recognize a tell when she sees one. It seems the dragoness does not take the concept of losing easily. “If I lose, I’ll give you anything you desire that is within my reach.”

“Anything?” she asks, a devious little smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “That’s dangerous, wouldn’t you say?”

"Indeed it is," Fafnir chuckles, a low rumble deep in her throat. When she breathes out, the column of her throat emits a light, orange glow, like the color of magma. The glow pulses in tune with each beat of Fafnir's heart, slow and steady. “But you like playing with fire, don’t you?”

“Guess I do," she shrugs with a smirk that's more teeth than anything, and the adrenaline coursing through her system feels like liquid fucking fire. Who even needs to hit the bottle anymore when she's got this? Fafnir meets her intensity in equal measure, true fangs glinting as her lips peel backwards in something between a sneer and a snarl.

“So do we have a deal, little rabbit?”

The dragoness's gaze is deep, dark and vast—both a warning and an invitation. Something buried in her subconscious screams at her, a bone-deep instinct, a prey response ingrained into the molecules of her being. It tells her to run before she gets devoured.

Too bad she's never been the type to listen.

“Deal.”

It's like the atmosphere shifts, the temperature of the room turning up a notch. The other players at the table squirm nervously in their seats—some tug at their collars, while others unbutton their store-bought suits. Fafnir holds her close as she leans forward, territorial, possessive, a draconic grin nearly splitting her face in two. When she speaks, the words engulf every other player at the table like a pyroclastic flow—scorching and inescapable and damning.

"How about we have some real fun, hm?"

In the end Fafnir wins just as she had promised, and Misha has never taken a patron to the private rooms quicker.

(She'll have to do a lot of explaining for the number of bite marks along her skin on tomorrow's shift, but that's a problem for future Misha. Current Misha is much too preoccupied to care.)

Linking OC sheets here: - Misha, @/e-hibiscus's OC - Fafnir, my OC

[camellcat]

CLARA PLEASE PLEASE CLARA NO NOT YOU NOT YET NOT NOW OH MY CLARA WHY PLEASE NO PLEASE

[leclsrc]

low down ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn w slight plot, humor, tad bit of fluff

word count: 2.5k

A lot can happen under an hour. You and Charles, self-proclaimed pros at sneaking around, can attest to this.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... smuuut,......,,, ... ,, dirty talk, charles is a bit dom-switchy, penetrative sex, handjob (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

req'd!!! title from this. leave it to auds to dip for 6 days n come back with another fic... i love u guys, my best friends foreva (dipping again for a bit after ths bec im headed back to ldn)

“So I said to her—if you text me, call me. Clever, innit? Oh.” Lando pauses telling his story, spotting you and Charles sitting on the sofa of the lounge. “Hey, you guys.”

“Mmm,” you mumble noncommittally, both of you focused on the film playing. “Close the door, the light’s blocking the screen.”

“Right, sorry.” Lando pulls it shut and turns back to Carlos to finish his story. “So this girl, yeah? Proper fit and all. Hey, Charles, her friend’s single, if you’re into that.”

Charles mulls over it for a second, his lips warping into a pout. “Sure…? Actually, mate, no.”

“Both of you are going to die single,” Carlos chirps from the fridge, tossing Lando a can of beer, who receives it as he laughs.

You snort from your place on the couch, clearly amused. “You’re saying that like it’s wrong.”

five minutes earlier

Charles’ hands sneak up, underneath your thin tank top and higher to cup your breasts. You mouth his name hotly against his ear, your own fingers threading into his hair as you whimper. “You”—another moan escapes your lips involuntarily when one hand leaves to squeeze at your ass—“you’re sure Carlos won’t come in?”

“We’ve got an hour at the least,” he promises roughly, groping hungrily, blindly almost. You part from him to catch your breath, meeting his eyes. They’re dark, with want written all over them, so you pull him closer, to let your mouths meet in a wet, messy kiss.

You two haven’t hooked up in two weeks, record time for how good you are at sneaking around. You’re not usually so careless, but you’re both desperate. He breathes hard, urgent, the tent in his jeans rubbing against the seat of your shorts. So much pent up tension, weeks of lingering touches, of eye contact at the same table, of wanting each other so plainly, in front of everyone who thinks the two of you are just friends.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whimper, grinding downward, harder. Your top’s been pushed up so he can bury himself in between your tits. “But—mmmmf, fuck, I need it.”

“Tell me,” he says, demands, breathless. He thumbs at the cup of your bra.

“I keep touching myself thinking about you,” you confess. It slips easy when it’s him. 

You spread your legs wider from where you are on top of him, lying on the sofa, movie playing idly and forgotten behind you both. It’s almost embarrassing to admit how much you want him, your body warm with desire, for him to bring his hand where you need it most. 

“Fuck, baby.” He hums, and it makes you so, so wet. Like he can read your mind, he mutters, “Wanna feel how wet you are.” Your hand loops around his wrist and you’re guiding it to your shorts, thighs clenching.

“Char—” Your breath tapers off into a high-pitched gasp when his arms suddenly wrap around your waist and gently, but urgently, push you off of him.

Briefly, you’re confused, your mind stuck on Fuck, baby and two weeks without all this and his promise of having enough time to fuck which has gone woefully unkept. You feel his fingers, quick to pull your top back down, feel him mumble a quick apology, and you sit yourself down on the other end of the sofa just as the door opens fully.

“You said an hour you asshole!” You manage to wedge it in before the chaos fizzles out.

“So I said to her—if you text me, call me. Clever, innit? Oh, hey, you guys…”

—

“Leave it to her and Charles to swim even further off the beach,” George mutters to Lewis, both of them walking along the shore, feet sticky with water and sand. “Those two are always getting into trouble.” 

Lewis calls out to the blank bright sea. “Guuuys! Helloooo?! We’re leaving!” He scans the water for two heads, finds nothing.

Your head pokes out from the door of the yacht a few feet away, docked just by the pier. “Alright! Just a second!”

“What the hell?” He mutters quietly, just level enough for him and Lewis to hear. “Could’ve sworn they swam out…” The two exchange a puzzled look, but shrug it off. “Okay. Come quick!”

“Yep!” You shut the door again with a smile.

twenty minutes earlier

“Please,” you beg, fingers toying at the waistband of his shorts. It’s been so long, you’re implying. There was that one quickie three weeks ago and nothing else. Dry, dry, dry. It’s been ages. You blink, flirty, brows furrowed, lip red with how hard you’ve been biting on it. “Need you.”

Really, you are never this careless. The group—you, Charles, Daniel, George, Lewis—had all been drinking on a yacht, and then when everyone swam off, you both snuck back onto the boat and shut the door quick behind you so you could—

“I need you now,” you add, feverish, your head thrown against the wall.

“Slow down,” he grunts, a low, amused drawl. “So eager.” His hair’s a bit wet from the two minute dip you took to pretend you were both swimming like everybody else. It smells like the beach, his lips like beer. You’re addicted.

It’s killing you, the want. The hunger. The need. “Can you blame me?”

He brings his fingers up your skirt to push your flimsy bikini piece to the side, swearing gruffly under his breath when he pushes one inside of you slowly. A throaty moan leaves you, involuntary, drawn out by the slight stretch, the relief. You tighten around him, hands caging him closer toward you.

“You’re so tiny, baby.” He mutters something in French, amused, a bit in awe. “So good for me.”

“Just you, just you,” you whine, feeling him work another finger into your cunt. 

He laughs, vicious against your ear. “You like that? What if someone walks in, hmm?”

Your stomach lurches with excitement and you grow wetter. “I don’t care.”

“Atta girl,” he chuckles, low and hot. It’s so dirty, everything, all of it. The sneaking around, pretending you’re nothing but friends around everyone but claiming each other once you’re alone for even just a second. You’re desperate for him, more, more, more.

So he gives it, a third finger pushing into you and letting you feel more of the dull stretch. Your hand’s palming at the bulge in his shorts, ears savoring the whiny grunts coming from him when you squeeze at it, albeit distractedly. “I’m gonna—fuck—” You tense, the pleasure bubbling over, thighs shaking.

“Let me feel you,” he orders lowly. “Come on, ange. J’en veux. Cum for me.”

Like you’re on command, you do, toes curling and hands pulling him to latch against your neck so you can smell him, feel him everywhere as you cum. It’s hard, long, a direct result of the god awful dry spell, gushing all over his thick fingers. He slips them out, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheekbone, then your nose, then finally your lips meet again in a messy, slow kiss.

“How long do we have?” You ask, giggling. He smells good, like always, and having him pressed up against you is as comforting as it is arousing.

“I figure an hour.”

Guuuys! Helloooo?! We’re leaving! A disembodied English voice permeates the wooden wall and you screw your eyes shut tight, adjusting your pulled-up bikini top. You turn to open the door, head poked out, finding George and Lewis standing idly by the pier. Just behind the door, Charles’ big hand gropes at your ass and he laughs behind you, unseen.

“Alright! Just a second!” You chirp smilingly. They say something your mind’s too clouded to register, so you reply with a safe “Yep!” and shut the door, facing Charles with a stormy expression on your face.

“You are shit at timing these,” you scold, letting him lift you up and pin you up against the wall to savor a two-minute makeout session.

—

Daniel hands Charles a pickle jar, asks him to open it. You watch with mild amusement. This is an hours-long prank now, with Daniel proclaiming the jar to be fully un-open-able and garnering over fifteen failures over the morning. Lewis failed. Max failed. Esteban failed. Three engineers, two strategists, and one janitor failed. “Lewis failed?!” You’d asked when Daniel let you in on his secret challenge.

So you watch, eyes transfixed on his veiny, ring-clas hands wrap securely around the jar. And then it pops open.

Surprise etches itself onto your features—then warmth, at the realization that arousal had begun to boil in your stomach. “You should be proud of him,” Daniel says beside you, in awe. “Some friend you’ve got there.”

“Totally,” you say enthusiastically, elbowing Charles. “Nice one, mate.”

forty-five minutes later

“Your hands.” You feel them grope at your ass. “They’re wicked.”

“You’re weak,” he says. A menace.

“Just shut up.” In retaliation, he wraps a hand around your neck, but doesn’t squeeze. It just rests there, a promise of something more. Your breath hitches and you grow wet under your jeans. Your eyes flutter.

“Fuck me,” you breathe. And he does.

—

“What’d Charles say? Ring him, won’t you?” Alex asks, reviewing the reservation list for dinner. “He’s late.”

“He said he was good with 8PM. Let me call just in case,” Max hums, clicking at his phone and pressing his ear to it. “Charles?”

“Mate,” says Charles on the other end, voice muffled through the phone. He’s quiet. 

“You up for dinner, right?”

“Later, at eight,” says the other, breathy. “Bye—”

And the line’s clicked off. Max stares confusedly at his phone, turning back to Alex and shrugging. “Well, he said fine.”

“Does he knowit’s 8:15?”

thirty seconds earlier

Charles grabs your hair, knotting it in his grip as he sucks in through his teeth. “Fuck.”

He’s big, thick in your mouth, stretching your jaw out wide. You’re so pretty on your knees, like you have been for the past few minutes, head bobbing, bringing him toward and away from release. Your eyes are watery, pleading almost, and the farther you go the more you choke around his dick, unable to take it.

“Deeper,” he says gruffly. And you obey, like always, with a devious smile that translates mostly in your eyes, a raised brow.

He smiles back down at you, and then his phone is ringing in his back pocket. This has happened before—bosses, friends, family (God, family) calling during trysts, but Jesus, Charles will never ever—

“Answer it.” You pull off with a teasing smile. It’s a challenge, leaves your shiny lips that are currently wrapped around his tip again. You raise both brows. Go.

He does, presses accept without reading and then mumbling the first thing on his mind. “Mate.”

You cough around him, throat tightening as you deepthroat, humming sweetly like this is your favorite thing in the world. Above you, Charles is spilling nonsense. “At eight,” he says. “Bye—”

The phone clatters to the floor beside you and he thrusts roughly into your waiting mouth, good girl good girl leaving his mouth in thin, desperate, gritty moans until he’s pulling you off by your hair and cumming onto yout lips.

“Tastes like shit,” you tease menacingly, licking over them anyway and smiling. You stand up and button his jeans, laughing. He kisses you.

“I’m on a fucking time limit. Dinner at eight.”

“It’s 8:15.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “I’ll just fuck you, then.”

—

“Is sneaking around the best idea?” You ask. “For us, right now?”

The season’s almost over, and that means Charles has no time to sneak off. Between almost being caught with your panties in your mouth by Carlos, and Charles almost being caught eating you out by Daniel, you’ve both agreed the stress isn’t worth it. But it begs the other question: how long will you wait?

“It…” He meets your eyes, exhaling, bummed. “It isn’t.”

one hour later

“Harder,” you whimper, the plead leaving you softly and desperately. His hand’s heavy at the small of your back, pushing you into a perfect arch so he can pound into you the way he likes. 

“How could I say no to you?” He says breathlessly. You hear his smile, his teasing pleasure. You shudder when he goes harder, tightening around him, sinking further down onto his cock. Your brain’s all fog, dumbed down by Charles’ insistent, hot words, hands all over you. 

“Cumming,” you say, the words thin and whiny. Your thighs shake when you do, for the third time in the hour. This fuck is messier, more desperate, hotter than all the rest. He doesn’t usually handle you so roughly but you both know it’s what you want anyway. 

You’re so fucking cock drunk it’s crazy. So good Charles—I want to cum again, I—

“Come on, for me.” He pounds into you harder. “Before I fill you up with my cum.”

“Wanna be full of it,” you pant, crying into the pillows when you let yourself give in to the knot of pleasure again and cum, gushing all over his cock.

He feels, semi-blindly, for your lips, presses his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on. You sniffle around it, and clearly he’s close to release with how sloppy and rough his thrusts are now, the constant grunting music to your ears. “Gonna be good for me?” He asks. You nod. “Gonna be my good little slut?”

It’s too much, in the best way—it sends you both into overdrive, cumming at the same time. It’s so good, you’re saying, but it’s cloudy and faraway and dumb.

“I can’t,” he says through gritted teeth. His face is shiny and pretty when you turn over, feel his dick slip out, and press a kiss to his sweaty nose. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Me neither,” you admit. The confession is swallowed into a kiss.

—

“Are you wearing Charles’ shirt?”

Max is eagle-eyed. Nobody noticed for twenty-seven fucking minutes and then Max walks in, takes a glance at your shirts, and suddenly everyone’s eyes are like glue. Your Ferrari shirt, which you’d purchased to be intentionally oversized—Charles’ size, just about—had a plain collar. Charles’—his was a polo.

You are wearing a polo. Charles is wearing a plain, U-shaped collar.

twenty-seven and a half minutes earlier

“I love that bra.” Charles flicks the black lacy strap and lets it snap against your skin. You yelp, brows furrowed defensively.

“Hey.” You pick your shirt up off the ground. “Don’t get turned on, we have to go and meet our friends. Isa’s here today, and so is Lily.”

He does the same, clutching the red and black Ferrari gear to his bare chest. “You turn me on.” It’s teasing, flirty, and you smile, pretending to shoo him away when he crowds you against his room’s wall. Get away! You’re shout-whispering, but he presses a sure kiss to your lips, and you smile against them.

“We’re pros at sneaking around,” you say, giggling as you tug your tee on.

He fixes his collar, tugs the shirt to fit properly, winks. “We really are.”

And maybe you don’t know it now, or in twenty-seven and a half minutes, but one day you will realize that the only people you’re hiding all your feelings from are yourselves.