#Light's on Amber not Green

[a-whole-tempest-in-a-teacup]

(it is enough. it is more than enough.)

Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery | Mademoiselle Gachet in her garden at Auvers-sur-Oise, Vincent van Gogh (1890) | 'Toad' - Mary Oliver | About Time (2013) | 'No Choir' - Florence + the Machine | Comic by eOndine | The Amber Spyglass, Philip Pullman | Superstore 'All Sales Final' (2021) | 'The View Between Villages' - Noah Kahan | Meadow with Poplars, Claude Monet (1875) | 'The Orange' - Wendy Cope

[outrageousmenshair]

And if the ginger mullet wasn’t enough then marvel at this stunner and his smooth, pale as pale can be skullet, with brilliant orange burst at the back.

[pulled-it-together-for-you]

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A traditional watercolour painting of Pat and Amber from the movie Green Room. They're standing next to each other, eyes locked. Their bodies are turned towards the viewer, and the art stops around their chest. Pat is holding an open Sharpie, while Amber is holding a razor and a lit lighter. It illuminates them in a yellow glow, creating dramatic dark green lighting on them and the background. The background is concentric green circles that get darker as they go out, with most of the background being very dark. It resembles a weak light source in a dark area. The colour scheme of the piece is mostly green and yellow, with limited use of pink and orange. In the top left corner "#3 - film with a green letterboxd poster" is written in a black pen.]

#3 - Film with a green Letterboxd poster

Film - Green Room

[koifishanonymous]

red the more you try to explain that you’re not weird about eyes, the weirder it makes it seem 😭

look i swear it makes sense, it does in my head at the very least.

ok so you've got your typical light-coloured eyes colour like light blue, gray, amber etc and they're like okay cool ig they have downsides for example the blue eyed stare right. (sidenote: what is wrong with those guys. they are terrifying). in this category you also have whatever this is supposed to be

then you have stuff like lightish green/hazel, light brown which are pretty good i quite like these.

but they you get this absolute monstrosity

WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE??? WHAT DOES THIS SYMBOL(eyes. sorry bad joke i jsut wanted to make it)IZE??

YOU WANT TO UNDERSTAND HOW A PERSON IS FEELING? WELL TOO BAD IF YOU'RE FUTHER THAN A METER AWAY YOU CANNOT TELL IF THEY EVEN /HAVE/ PUPILS?? YOU WANT TO DRAW A COOL CHARACTER THAT HAS DARK BROWN EYES? WELL YOU CAN SAY GOODBYE TO ANY COOL FLECK OF COLOUR YOU GET THE DAMPEST BROWN YOU CAN IMAGINE. AND I, RED, HAVE TO HAVE THEM??? WHAT HAPPENED TO BEING INTERESTING.

rant aside, if you have this eyecolour this isnt a stab at you i could not care less of who has these eyes i care about colours and aesthetics. like this colour is extremely common in humans but it's also common in deer and ravens. this is purely about colour. if anything i'll get mildly annoyed humans have dark brown as their primary eye colour while owls get orange.

anyways green eyes superiority have some green eyes cats i'm so very normal

[enteringdullsville]

You’d be surprised how many designs I go through in development. This started off as an examination of Zuri (light blue, center right) and her design evolution before spiraling out of control, to the point where I had to draw an entirely new piece of artwork from scratch for a character I hadn’t actually physically drawn out yet.

And that’s ignoring that I reused Proto-Zuri/Amy’s hat from Marina’s oldest (and now current) design, or that Ebony has Proto-Zuri/Shayla’s eyes (which Orchid also has at one point, dragging in more than ten more characters between the three).

[luna-azzurra]

Describe your Main Character sheet

Skin

Tone: Pale, Rosy, Olive, Dark, Tanned, Alabaster, Ebony, Bronze, Golden, Fair

Texture: Smooth, Rough, Silky, Coarse, Flaky, Supple, Wrinkled, Calloused, Bumpy

Condition: Moles, Acne, Dry, Greasy, Freckled, Scars, Birthmarks, Bruised, Sunburned, Flawless

Complexion: Clear, Ruddy, Sallow, Glowing, Dull, Even-toned, Blotchy

Eyes

Size: Small, Large, Average, Tiny, Bulging, Narrow

Color: Grey, Brown, Blue, Violet, Pink, Green, Gold, Hazel, Crimson, Amber, Turquoise, Sapphire, Onyx

Shape: Doe-eyed, Almond, Close-set, Wide-set, Round, Oval, Hooded, Monolid

Expression: Deep-set, Squinty, Monolid, Heavy eyelids, Upturned, Downturned, Piercing, Gentle, Sparkling, Steely

Other: Glassy, Bloodshot, Tear-filled, Clear, Glinting, Shiny

Hair

Thickness: Thin, Thick, Fine, Normal

Texture: Greasy, Dry, Soft, Shiny, Curly, Frizzy, Wild, Unruly, Straight, Smooth, Wavy, Floppy

Length: Cropped, Pixie-cut, Afro, Shoulder length, Back length, Waist length, Past hip-length, Buzz cut, Bald

Styles: Weave, Hair extensions, Jaw length, Layered, Mohawk, Dreadlocks, Box braids, Faux locks, Braid, Ponytail, Bun, Updo

Color: White, Salt and pepper, Platinum blonde, Golden blonde, Dirty blonde, Blonde, Strawberry blonde, Ash brown, Mouse brown, Chestnut brown, Golden brown, Chocolate brown, Dark brown, Jet black, Ginger, Red, Auburn, Dyed, Highlights, Low-lights, Ombre

Eyebrows: Thin eyebrows, Average eyebrows, Thick eyebrows, Plucked eyebrows, Bushy eyebrows, Arched eyebrows, Straight eyebrows

Lips

Shape: Full, Thin, Heart-shaped, Bow-shaped, Wide, Small

Texture: Chapped, Smooth, Cracked, Soft, Rough

Color: Pale, Pink, Red, Crimson, Brown, Purple, Nude

Expression: Smiling, Frowning, Pursed, Pouting, Curved, Neutral, Tight-lipped, Parted

Nose

Shape: Button, Roman, Hooked, Aquiline, Flat, Pointed, Wide, Narrow, Crooked, Upturned, Snub

Size: Small, Large, Average, Long, Short

Condition: Freckled, Sunburned, Smooth, Bumpy

Build

Frame: Petite, Slim, Athletic, Muscular, Average, Stocky, Large, Lean, Stout, Bony, Broad-shouldered, Narrow-shouldered

Height: Short, Tall, Average, Petite, Giant

Posture: Upright, Slouched, Rigid, Relaxed, Graceful, Awkward, Stiff, Hunched

Hands

Size: Small, Large, Average, Delicate, Strong

Texture: Smooth, Rough, Calloused, Soft, Firm

Condition: Clean, Dirty, Manicured, Scarred, Wrinkled

Nails: Short, Long, Polished, Chipped, Clean, Dirty, Painted, Natural

Voice

Tone: Deep, High, Soft, Loud, Raspy, Melodic, Monotonous, Hoarse, Clear, Gentle

Volume: Loud, Soft, Whispery, Booming, Muted

Pace: Fast, Slow, Steady, Hasty, Measured

Expression: Cheerful, Sad, Angry, Calm, Anxious, Confident, Nervous, Excited, Bored

[sporraki]

5 real life rare eyes colors

[5-subcultures]

5 real life rare eyes colors.

[sporraky]

5 real life rare eyes colors.

[dark-moonlust]

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 1

Pairing: Two nagas x human reader

Summary: it’s mating season for the nagas and you’re more than eager to satisfy your mates.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, naga smut, nagas have double 🍆🍆, double pen, tails penetration, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

Find the next parts of the series here.

The jungle was alive with the energy until the sounds of your naga mates turned it eerily quiet. Their frantic calls for mating rang out, the insects and birds turning silent. You heard them from where you were resting safely in your nest and soon you followed the sound of hissing and rustling leaves. Your mates had arrived. They had left to hunt and bring you food but the rut must have hit them at full force forcing them to return to you.

They entered the hut, closing the wooden door and hiding the soft glow of the moon. Thorne and Ragnor. Your nagas were handsome, their serpentine forms gliding closer to you. Their upper bodies were muscular, their shoulders broad, their stomachs bulging with muscles. They had striking amber eyes that glowed with predatory hunger. Their lower halves were long, powerful tails that coiled around you and made you feel protected.

Drawn by an irresistible desire to satisfy your mates, you urged them to come to you. You sat back on the bed and they circled you, their strong hands removing your loincloth—the only clothing you wore. Their tails wrapped around you, opening your legs wide to expose your slick pussy.

Your first naga mate, Thorne his eyes a deep gold, his scales green, started licking your breasts. Your other mate, Ragnor his eyes as light as the sun, his body red, bent down to claim your lips. They awakened your body with intimate touches and kisses, growling and hissing softly.

“Our mate,” Thorne said, forked tongue lapping around a hard nipple. “So eager to please.”

Ragnor hummed and let the tip of his tail brush lightly over your clit. “We will mate you, sweet mate,” he murmured. “It is time to plant our seed inside your little cunny. But first, we shall prepare you. Make you shake and cry in ecstasy.”

“Yes… hmnn please, yes,” you moaned in between kisses while a long tongue nudged in your throat.

Another tail came to prod the tiny rosebud of your ass hole. You heard the soft slurp of oil, felt human hands cupping your mound and fingering your ass. You gasped when both tails slowly entered you, surging deep in your pussy and ass. The tails— twice bigger than a human cock— stretched you, prepared you for their inhuman dicks.

The naga feeding from your mouth reached down to play with your clit while your other mate suckled your tits and whispered how good you were, how pretty your tiny holes looked around their tails. You panted as their tails pistoned back and forth in fluid movements. You climaxed on the spot, crying out while they looked at you entranced and praised you proudly.

“Good mate,” Ragnor drawled. “Now you give us this sweet little mouth. Add then we’ll fuck you. All night.”

With their tails still buried inside you, your mates helped you kneel before them so you could pleasure them. You grasped Ragnor's hips, your tongue flicking out to tease the slit that protected his dicks. With persistent licks, both shafts sprung up. You licked one cock while pumping the other. They were naturally slick with sweet lubricant. You heard a loud growl, and felt your mate grab a fistful of your hair as he undulated his torso and forced both cocks into your mouth.

Your other mate, Thorne, kneeled behind you, his strong hands cupping your breasts and running circles around your sensitive nipples. They kept up with the praise, telling you how good you felt around their tails, how pretty you’d look carrying their seed and what a good mother you’d be.

They switched places, and you started suckling Thorne’s cocks that had already emerged from his protective slit. You licked the fat tips that leaked with pre-cum and ran your tongue over the textured base. Impatient, he nudged deep inside your throat, both cocks stretching your mouth full. You worked hard, slurping their dicks while their tails claimed your holes, your body jerking back and forth, tits bouncing.

Pleasure became too much to handle. You came, gurgling around the twin cocks in your mouth, tails slipping in and out of your holes, your juices trickling down your thighs. The cocks finally left your mouth, a trail saliva trickling down your chin. Your mates licked it off, taking turns kissing your mouth.

Rearranging their positions, Thorne settled down and pulled you on top of him, your breasts squeezed against his chiseled chest. Your other mate slithered behind you, spreading your asscheeks apart to watch their tails lodged deep inside of you.

Nodding to each other, the nagas pulled their tails out of you, their appendages slick with oil and your juices. Then it was time to take four cocks. Slowly, two dicks thrust upwards, filling your pussy to the hilt. From behind, Ragnor's double shafts slipped past your now gaping asshole, reaching deep in your guts. Slotted together, the nagas gave you a few moments to adjust to the impossible stretch and depth.

“Alright, little one?” the mate behind you asked, kissing your nape.

“Mmnnn—yes, move, pl—ease!"

You whined when they finally began to fuck you. Two huge cocks owned your pussy, while two more claimed your ass. Your holes were stretched around the thick shafts, more wetness dripping down your thighs and all over their scaly bodies. Your belly was swollen, rounded with the evidence of your mating.

Thorn's hands grasped your waist as he helped you move and ride their dicks. A forked tongue licked across your neck as Ragnor fingered your clit, stroking and teasing in time with their thrusts. The two nagas worked in perfect harmony, their bodies slithering and leaving you breathless. They never left you unfilled. The pleasure was intense, building and building with each thrust.

When you finally came, the explosion of their cum rocked your world. All four cocks pulsed and shot spurt after spurt of their seed, their feral hissings echoing through the jungle. Hot cum filled you up, your belly expanding further until you couldn’t hold back no longer. Your muscles seized and you clung to them, nails digging into their scaly bodies as you surrendered to ecstasy.

Crying out and sobbing in pleasure, you collapsed on your mate’s chest. He rubbed your cheeks and kissed your dry lips softly.

Once again, your mates changed positions.

Their cocks left you, your cunt and ass leaking buckets of naga cum. You winced but sighed softly when they guided you to lie down on your back, their long tails wrapping lovingly around your arms and legs. You turned your head and took two cocks into your mouth, while your other mate sat between your legs, thrusting into your pussy until he was balls-deep. Trapped between their strong bodies, you suckled and whimpered their names as they thrust inside you, spitroasting you in perfect symphony.

You tried to speak around a mouthful of dicks, tell them that your ass was left empty. But they quickly took care of it, both their tails squeezing inside and filling you deeply. You keened loudly while the nagas cupped your tits and rolled your swollen clit. You shattered and cried out, your orgasm intense and blinding. They followed right after, your stomach bulging with cum and the force of the cocks penetrating you.

“Such a good little mate for us,” Thorne said, his hands rubbing your belly protectively, feeling the gentle movements of the shafts and tails inside you.

“You have sated us, taken everything we had to give—our tails, our cocks and loads of our seed,” Ragnor praised. “You have honored us, mate.

"I love you," you whispered, your eyes closing.

“We love you more, little one,” they both said, whispering kisses on your skin.

Spent and satisfied, the nagas held you close and lulled you to sleep while keeping you full of their cum. It wouldn’t be wise to clean you yet. Their seed had to stay a while in order to take.

[evilautist]

my eyes are like my hair youll have others start arguing when i bring it up cause ive got both central heterochromia AND ombre hair 😭

[lokisgoodgirl]

Mine, Utterly [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After making Prince Loki a little jealous, he lays down the law on the eve of an important occasion. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Minors DNI. Dirty talk, language.

Your hands hit the mattress and grasped at the silken sheets, as if that would save you.

“My Prince,” you gasped, breaths scorching against your lungs as he ripped the chiffon around your thighs.

All you’d done was smile at the guard. Okay, maybe flirt a little…just enough to rouse the jealousy Loki had suggested with a mischievous shine in his eyes before taking his place on the Royal banqueting dais.

A palm landed on your exposed ass cheek. Crying out, you shot a glance over your shoulder. Prince Loki stood, storms in his darkened eyes, the leather belt that had been slung across his chest now dangling from a fist. "You dare to make a god jealous?"

Your stomach dropped. What if it was a test; what if he was joking? But for all his antics, the Prince wasn’t known for his humour when it came to matters of the heart—or the flesh. He didn’t share, and as that thought sank in, the knuckles on the fist whitened. You inhaled sharply, grip tightening on the sheets.

Something struck your ass again, but this time it gripped. Loki’s back was pressed to yours. The emeralds studded into the intricately constructed doublet pinched through the thin fabric of your bodice as he whispered, “Perhaps I wasn’t clear that when you are mine, you are mine; utterly.”

His knuckles trailed down your bicep, those fingers that had been wet with your cum too many times to count in palace corridors and dark corners dancing across your skin. Those digits had fastened around your wrist and torn you away from the feasting hall, his obligations forgotten, and whisked you in an explosion of green light to the candlelit expanse of your own bedroom.

Now, Loki’s cock pressed through the layers of leather and velvet covering it right into the swell of your ass. It was a familiar feeling—but he’d always resisted. Only his fingers, his tongue, his words—that was the only relief he gave you over past months since your arrival at court. Never his pleasure—never his cock.

Norns, how you wanted to fuck him; wanted to ride him until his own name scattered on the wind like ash, feel him slam into your cunt until his brilliant mind was a blur of lines like wine spilled on parchment. You wondered how your name sounded on his lips when he came: staggered, gasping, choking for mercy.

His nose drew a line up your neck, inhaling at the pulse point like a hound. “You are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured.

In answer, your hand slid up his temple and knotted into Loki’s hair. A growl built in his throat, swelling your confidence in time with the heat throbbing between your legs. “No more, and no less, than you are mine, Loki Odinson.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder, just enough to make you squirm against his cock. He spun you around, tipping your over the edge of the mattress while he towered in a silhouette of black and forest green pulsating in amber flickers.

His fingers made quick work of the laces at his groin and then, his legendary, iron cock was in his hand. It was even more perfect that you’d dreamed. A well of saliva rose indelicately beneath your tongue. Loki stroked it, back and forth, as you watched: hypnotised.

“Tonight, I will show you what it is to be mine,” he said, low and thicker than molasses on a winter’s eve. “After that, I’m afraid you will be ruined for all others…” A devilish smirk lit at the corners of his mouth. Your heart pounded as you sat up on the bed, trying frantically to untangle the dress sprawled around your hips. Loki’s knees hit the mattress.

"Allow me," he said, before ripping the dress from your body in one, swift movement.

Your eyes widened as it fluttered to the floor. Only the corset remained. "My Prince…I," you said, attempting to keep the game fluid; but Loki pressed a finger to your lips with a hush. It was still warm from the friction of his cock.

"We have talked long enough, you and I. I would very much like to fuck you…" His eyebrows rose. "I will, fuck you. I will have you; utterly."

As the final syllable melted, so did his clothes. The emerald encrusted doublet was first, then the sigils of his station, then the boots and—oh, gods—the leather trousers.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him: carved like marble, the tremor of his muscle beneath taut skin as he rested back on his heels, thighs spread, enough to make you howl. Loki’s chin dipped to his chest, unbound hair falling around his milky shoulders like hot tar over battlements. His cheekbones flashed in pulsing candlelight as he said with a touch of malice, "I will not be kept waiting. Not anymore," but his eyes glinted.

You crawled the space between you and hoisted onto his lap. With your arms around his neck, your bare cunt pressed against the throb of his flesh, you couldn’t imagine it ever not being thus. And then, you kissed him; one sliding into the next like spring into summer, like night into day.

Loki’s kisses were a medley of ravenous restraint; morphing like his magic between complete desperation and tenderness. His hands cupped your ass, scooting you further up his lap. The tip of his cock rubbed against your slit.

"I want to consume you," he whispered, lips wet from your kisses. "And you will never be anothers."

"Never." A ragged moan ripped the air as you sank onto his length. Loki’s groan of pleasure was everything you’d dreamt of—a primal flash beneath the regal façade you wanted to tear at with your bare hands. His chin tipped back, nailing you with his dilated stare as his hips pushed up.

"Loki," you gasped, clutching at his back muscle. He was huge. The Prince bottomed out, teeth clenching. 

"You’ve no idea how much I craved this little cunt," he panted as your hands fisted in his hair. "How many times I’ve wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until all thoughts of other men were shaken from your mind forever."

The squelch of your pussy jammed with his cock punctuated every word. "How you’ve teased me, played with me; ruined me—all for the want of the Valhalla I knew would be between your legs."

Loki’s head fell back with broken cry of anguish as you clench around the root of his cock, dragging up before slamming down onto the meat of his thighs.

“Fuck, kvinne…now I find myself tricked…” he said, breathless. The god’s head rose, strands of sex damp hair plastered across his brow. "I want you more than ever."

His eyes narrowed, and then his lips collided to yours, tongue demanding entry with the sureness of a tide on the shore. His nails dug into the curve of your waist, guiding your hips. Every gyration made new sparks burst to life, sizzling from your clit to the deepest parts of your body and mind that had never been so alive.

“I will never be sated,” Loki growled, thrusting faster, “Never…never.” With a rumble, he flipped you onto your back. Loki’s lips worked down the hard sinews of your neck, sucking against supple skin, palming your breasts upward. He was possessed. Loki’s name was a chant in your throat, the absence of his cock inside you becoming unbearable.

"Fuck me," you whined, and Loki looked up from where he’d been distracted with your nipple between his teeth.

“Ruined for all others,” confirmed Loki, smirking. He crawled over your body, settling his legs on either side and drawing the leaking head of himself through your sopping folds. “Beg for it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Beg…my pretty, pretty whore.” Loki’s lips grazed across your cheek like wind through barley; a short, trembling sigh flooding your ear.

“Maybe you’re my whore, Odinson. Did you consider that?”

His thick cock twitched against your heat as he stared down at you with your perfectly styled hair mussed, your thighs spread, your lips bitten and stinging, before he whispered, “I consider everything.” Dark curls hung down either side of his jaw, framing the angle of his jawline as he licked his lips and settled into a cage around your head. The muscles of his forearms twitched with the effort of not fucking you into the mattress. The words bubbled in your throat, spilling forth before you could second guess them. “Well, if you’re my whore, then satisfy me.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” Those words shaped his tongue like summer storms. “And you will have everything you desire; always.”

You scraped hair back from his face, the beat of his heat thumping through his skin. His hips dragged against your clit, making your knees tighten around his ribs. “I’m yours,” you whispered, “Utterly.” Loki’s cock squeezed inside, and his face twisted in relief absolute. One of his hands flew to the ornate headboard; whacks of ancient wood against stone sounding with every thrust. His pubic hair dragged against your swollen clit, moans mingling with the fragrance of sweat and sex that clung to your bodies and rose like steam.

The god knew your body like you thought only you did, and every grip of his hands, shift of his hips, work of his mouth—you couldn’t catch your breath. His lust was the chop of waves, drowning you on the undertow of his strength, and scent and the hair brushing your lips as he fucked you. You never had a chance. Need scorched up your skin as climax broke. It flooded through your body, Loki’s name a rattle in your throat as his exhales of pleasure pounded in your ear. He hissed as fingernails dragged down the wide expanse of his back, the slide of his cock primal and wet, balls smacking against cum-slick skin.

The prince’s thrusts slowed, rocking you through the final threads of orgasm stringing you together. You gaped at him, heavy eyed and open mouthed as his torso rose between your legs, his palms splayed on your thighs, his abdomen flexing with every glacial, devastating thrust.

Loki’s head fell back, his black curls a sheet down the faint flush of pale skin.

The veins in his neck hardened, jaw clenched to the ceiling as deep lines settled on his brow. Your breath hitched.

Every glide of his cock was met by the gluttonous squelch of your cum. Loki rocked on his heels, guiding himself over the edge inside your perfect cunt.

“Gods,” he choked to the murals above the bed. And then, he came.

His face screwed up as the wave hit was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Loki’s groan trembled through your skin, beneath your flesh and vibrating your bones. His fingers tightened, and you knew that tomorrow your gown would hide the evidence of obsession marked in blue and purple shadows of devotion.

Devotion, you thought lazily as he gasped out the syllabled of your name and collapsed on your chest; meeting your lips with open mouthed enthusiasm.

Somewhere, a bell tolled. Loki sighed, slipping himself out of you with a mutter of irritation. He clicked his fingers, and the elaborate garb assembled on him like a blossom of ink. His lip curled. “The next time I see you, it will be in white.”

“Mmm…” “And yet they will have no clue what a fantastically depraved wretch for me that my intended is.” “I think they might know that already if the maids who caught you pleasuring me in the kitchens last week weren’t mute—and besides, perhaps they’ll just think my intended is a bad influence.”

“Gods, I hope so,” Loki murmured against your skin before biting your cheek softly, melting into a kiss. “Until tomorrow, then.” Loki drew away, his eyes serious but a small smile playing at his lips. “When you’re my wife, you shall never be rid of me.” “Gods, I hope so,” you echoed, and in the space of a heartbeat, Loki vanished.

Tags in comments! 🤗

[pulled-it-together-for-you]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

suguru is too well-mannered for his own good.

when you walk into his living room, a lidded paper cup in hand, he’s seated on the couch. right in front of the coffee table, his fingers tapping the keys of his laptop, a series of clicks filling the open air.

he’s just as beautiful as always. light shines in from the veranda, through parted curtains, licking along the contours of his face; illuminating his face lines, soft crows’ feet by his eyes. he’s got his hair tied up into a messy bun, raven locks and silver strands, only slightly grayed, some of them tickling the back of his neck — behind a pair of reading glasses, his eyes narrow in concentration.

you can see his age, like this, but also not at all. he looks younger than ever, with the sun as his gown.

suddenly, he raises his head, meeting your adoring gaze with his own; two pools of amber, always warm, like they were made to reflect sunlight, made to pull you in. his lips curling up into a fond smile.

but your gaze strays down to his hands.

big, steady hands. hands that always find their way to the dips of your waist, or your shoulders, or the top of your head. reaching out to pinch your cheek, to soothe your headaches after long lectures, to mend and mold any lump of clay you place into his waiting palms — guide it into whatever shape he pleases, with those skilled fingers.

when you think of suguru, you think of pottery. you think of something beautiful, and there he is.

and he’s holding a cup.

as you step farther into his line of vision, hungry for a proper look at him, you can’t help but notice it. painted a deep, dark green, his favorite, but the shape is all wrong — uneven, not nearly polished enough, rough around the edges. when he puts it back down on the table, it wobbles.

(you visibly cringe.)

”hi, sweetie.”

that deep, honeyed voice tugs you back into reality, your gaze pulled up like a puppet on a string. suguru is patient, just taking you in, waiting for a response. there’s never any rush, when it comes to him. 

a shy smile blooms on your lips. 

”hi,” you echo, stepping closer yet; raising a hand, the one carrying the paper cup, swaying it lightly side to side. ”i got you a latte.”

”oh?” he lets out a soft noise, something like a coo, eyes blooming with fondness. ”chai?”

”mhm.”

his smile only grows. you watch him lean back, absently crossing his arms, thick muscles hidden under the turtleneck he’s sporting. when you take a step closer, eager to hand it to him, he stops you. 

”why don’t you give it a taste for me?” he asks, giving you a sweet tilt of his head. eyes soft and amused.

you blink.

after a moment, you raise the cup to your lips; taking a tentative sip of the brew. it’s hot on your tongue, a dash of pleasant spices, but mellow and sweet. just the way he likes it. you sigh out in bliss.

he only chuckles. ”how is it?”

”tasty,” you hum, licking your lips. holding it out for him to take. ”not too sweet, don’t worry.”

suguru accepts the cup with a smile, his thumb lingering on your hand for a moment, caressing the skin in a soothing motion. his voice a low, tender murmur. ”thank you, honey.”

(a warm feeling sprouts in your chest.)

”i’ll get you a cup next time i pass by a café,” he continues, taking a tentative sip of his own. he visibly perks up at the taste. ”what would you like?”

”you don’t have to!” you’re quick to assure him, blinking sheepishly. but, of course, he won’t have it.

”i want to,” he chuckles. ”you’ll make me very happy if you let me.”

…

there’s no use protesting, when it comes to things like this. when he gets like this. telling suguru not to take care of you is like asking the sun not to shine.

so you let out a sigh.

”i… want a caramel frappe, please…”

another little chuckle. his voice is soft, as always, like a coo is resting on the tip of his tongue. ”understood.”

suguru watches you, silently, for just a moment or two. you’re meeting his gaze with a shy pair of eyes, always a little flustered by his attention, his care. his sweet little baby bird, coming over just to give him something to drink. straight out of class. 

(you must be in need of some pampering.)

he pats his lap. ”come here,” he croons, parting his legs to give you space to take up. ”keep me company while i work. i want to hear about your day, sweetie.”

you blink, again. looking down at his lap, then back up at him, at the light catching onto the silver of his half-rim frames. he gives you a patient, closed-eyed smile — waiting for you to take your rightful place.

and you do.

his thighs feel solid, beneath you, big arms curling around your waist as you crawl into his lap. one hand goes to rest on your hip, the other on your lower back, cradling you close, secure in his embrace. you wrap your arms around his neck, legs draped over his thighs, leaning into his touch; inhaling the scent of sandalwood and tea leaves.

”… it was pretty boring.”

”oh, i’m sure you can do better than that.” he grins, brushing his thumb over the fabric of your jeans, an absentminded gesture. ”any interesting lectures?”

”uhhh…” 

as you take the time to think, recollecting your long and tiring day, suguru leans forward — reaching for the cup. the ugly one. pulling it closer, putting the ceramic to his lips, to finish whatever he was drinking before you came in. green tea, you assume. the sip he takes resounds in your ear, your eyes sticking to his fingers as he places it back on the wooden table with a clink — it wobbles again. 

you give it a look of silent contempt.

… a look suguru seems to notice. because his keen, warm eyes trail down to where yours are still resting, and then back up at your little frown. he raises a brow, but he’s still smiling, an amused curl of his lips.

 ”… what?”

a moment passes. you consider staying silent, but the nagging curiosity gets the better of you. avoiding his gaze, still glancing down at the cup in question, absently clearing your throat.

”you still… use that one?” you ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. thinking that it should be stashed away in some forgotten cupboard, not out in the open — but maybe your boyfriend is just too polite to do something like that. 

suguru only blinks. ”why wouldn’t i?”

…

you give him a look.

he returns it with a look of his own; silent, coaxing, that one questioning raise of his brow. he pairs it with a gentle squeeze to your hip, knowing it’ll make you relent. and he’s right.

”it’s…” you part your lips, searching for the right word, frowning down at the little ceramic bundle of joy. with its bumpy texture, that awkward-looking handle, the uneven bottom layer. ”so ugly, suguru.”

”ugly?” he echoes, a spark of amusement in his amber eyes. but he sounds a little discontent, almost protective. ”now, now. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my love.”

his deep voice buzzes in your ear, as he reaches out again, cradling the cup with one large hand. gazing down at it with a look you can’t quite place — so sweet it makes you shiver. out of the corner of your eye, you notice him giving you a pointed look. 

”… and i happen to think this cup is very charming.”

you can’t help but pout, shying away from his gaze. gnawing at your bottom lip, crossing your arms and resting your cheek near the crook of his neck, muttering under your breath. ”what’s charming about a cup that can barely stand…?”

”you made it,” he answers, simply, no hesitation in his voice. ”with your own hands and fingers. and you gave it to me.”

ever so gently, he grips your jaw; his pointer and middle finger tilting your chin to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. 

”… don’t you think there’s an awful lot of charm in that?”

(warm. his eyes look warm enough to fall into.)

a sigh slips past your lips. he gives you a soft tilt of his head, and you part your lips in pliant response. sulking. ”the ones you’ve made for me are so much better, though…”

you think of all the bowls, all the cups, the plates he’s given you — the same ones you use every single day, sitting tall and proud on your shelves, made entirely by him. in all kinds of elegant patterns, your initials carved at the bottom of every single one. he always gives you the ones he’s most proud of, after he’s finished with his classes.

… in comparison, yours is just…

”we don’t make art for needless comparison,” he shushes you, ever so fondly. ”there’s no end to that. we make it because it’s fun. my pieces aren’t better or lesser than yours just because i happen to be more experienced.”

…

when you don’t respond, suguru shifts — cradling you close, lifting the cup up to catch the light of the evening sun. it cascades down the ceramic, a mellow orange glow gliding across the green expanse. he watches it with barely concealed adoration.

”… this is my favorite one, you know. in my entire collection.” a joyous little hum buzzes in his throat. ”i’ve never made a cup i liked as much as this.”

you watch his expression change, eyes flickering with something soft and subtle, crinkled at the edges. his voice is nothing but sincere — coated in that sturdy, reliable tilt, like nothing he says could possibly be a lie. even if he tried, you doubt he could fake this kind of delight. putting the cup back down, as gentle as he can, as if it’s a cherished possession. he only looks more delighted when it wobbles a bit.

without thinking, the words slip past your lips.

”… i’ll make you another one.”

suguru’s gaze flicks down to meet yours. all bright and determined, your cheek squished against his shoulder, enough to make him want to coo. he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

”oh…? joining us in the studio again?”

”joining you,” you’re quick to correct, letting out a quiet huff. ”i… don’t want your students to make fun of me.”

a raspy chuckle leaves his lips. ”they won’t,” he assures you, a hint of pride in his voice. ”they’re much too well-behaved.”

”well-behaved around you, maybe,” you mutter, with a roll of your eyes. nuzzling against his jaw, frowning softly. ”… you’re coddling them.”

”i coddle you,” he purrs, with an affectionate squeeze to your hip. ”i don’t see you complaining, do i?”

”… that’s different.” 

the tiny pout on your lips makes him laugh. but he indulges you, always, all too eager to let you have your way. ”of course it is,” he coos, deep and teasing. ”how could i ever suggest otherwise?”

you fail to stifle a smile. feeling his skin against yours, his fingers rubbing absentminded patterns into your back, that soothing voice rumbling in your ear. when he leans down, to pick up the paper cup, you’re filled with a sense of purpose. you’ll just have to make a better cup next time — one that doesn’t wobble, with an smoother texture, perfectly symmetrical. one he can show off to his students and coworkers, the same way you do with all the pottery he’s given you.

suguru deserves nothing but the best, after all.

… what you don’t realize is that it won’t matter either way. even if you give him a better option, he’ll undoubtedly continue to use the cup he has now — with a sheepish little smile, and a sorry, honey. it seems i’ve gotten attached.

(… you suppose it’s the thought that counts.)

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Razor's Caress

Warnings: MDNI, depilation, piv sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie A/n: Just felt kinky and needed to write Zayne. Also, it is my firm belief that Zayne is a clit kisser after he performs oral. Hope everyone's New Year is going well and that the pull gods have been generous to you in the latest banner!

You giggle as Zayne’s large hands wander over your body, softly squeezing your curves as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. His tongue traces a warm line up the column of your throat and a contented sigh leaves your lips as you cling to him. Zayne takes his time, always keeping his touches light and teasing as he samples and savors every inch of your body that falls prey to his mouth. 

As he starts slipping his smooth hands under your top, cupping your breasts, you can feel desire pouring into your veins as you take in his appearance; those mesmerizing eyes that were starting to darken at the periphery, his hot breath as it tickled your ear, and the unmistakable hardening bulge that was pressing against your thigh. Longing falls heavily on your senses but you hesitate, remembering that this little rendezvous wasn’t planned, and as such, you were completely and utterly unprepared down there. 

It never failed to surprise you, how quickly the bush grew back like it was being treated with an extra strength hair growth formula, the coarse locks covering your mound and creeping onto your thighs. With a sigh, you knew you wouldn’t go any further tonight. You fully intended to make it up to him tomorrow, once you could groom down there and look presentable. Part of you knows that body hair is natural and you shouldn’t be fussing over it so much but considering this was a new relationship, you simply weren’t confident enough yet to bare yourself in your native state. It was the beginning of a relationship that was starting to solidify, and you wanted to stretch it out a little longer. After all, keeping the area free of hair was something that you did for yourself; it made you feel confident and well-kempt. 

You place a hand on Zayne’s shoulder to grab his attention and he gazes at you, fire in his amber-green eyes. It almost makes you want to forget your hesitancy but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “Yes?” Zayne’s voice is a low growl as he waits for you to speak.

You clear your throat before speaking. “I-I’m sorry but, I don’t think we can go further tonight.” The disappointment is subtle but it makes your heart clench as you see it in his face, the slight droop in his mouth, and the change of warmth in his eyes. He sighs, then composing himself, rolls off you and you feel the loss keenly. You knew he could be balls deep inside you and if you said stop he’d pull out immediately, and you ached because right now you wanted just that; to feel his tongue all over you, to have his hot, velvety, flesh invade the part of you that throbbed and radiated with heat. But you remember what you looked like down there and try to curb your impulses. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, reaching out to stroke his shoulder.

“Don’t be. It’s all right.” Zayne cups your cheek and strokes it tenderly, and it almost breaks your already paper-thin resolve. “Was I going too fast?”

“No. It was perfect.” You lean over and card your fingers through his silky hair, leaning towards him till your foreheads touch. “And believe me, you have no idea how much I want to.”

“Then why stop?” Zayne presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and you almost groan in frustration. 

“It’s…it’s just a thing I have to deal with.”

“What sort of thing?” Zayne pulls away to look at you and you feel yourself blushing under his gaze. How could you possibly tell him the reason?

“It’s kind of personal. I just need to take care of it before we can do anything.”

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together in puzzlement. “You know you can tell me whatever it is right?” There’s a pause and you look away, feeling strangely shallow about your reasoning for not wanting to have sex tonight. You shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Can we let it go?”

Observing the flustered way you’re avoiding him, Zayne frowns. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Embarrassment creeps into your being and you turn to hide your face in your pillow and hear Zayne make a noise of amusement. He lays down beside, you, reassuringly patting your head. “You can tell me if you want to. No pressure. But I can’t see your face now.”

His words carry a light, teasing tone making you feel like you’re about to combust spontaneously. You feel him continue to pat your head and finally give in and admit the reason. Your voice is muffled by the pillow as you say it.

“I haven’t shaved.” 

A moment of silence follows your words before Zayne lets out a huff. “Is that all?” His tone sounds relieved. “I thought I did something.”

“No! It’s not you at all.” You raise your face from the pillow and give him an earnest look. “I haven’t had time to do maintenance and don’t want you to see me like that.”

“Why not?” There’s a quirk in Zayne’s lips. “I think I’d very much like to see it no matter how it looks.”

“No!” you squeak the word and shake your head. “Trust me, you don’t.” Bemused at his reaction, you allow him to pull you into a tight embrace, his chest shaking with laughter, which did little to quell your insecurity. “Stop! This isn’t funny!” you pout, making him grip you harder. 

“Of course it’s funny. Darling, do you really think I’m unaware that women have pubic hair? Or that it’s impossible to keep it neat all the time?” His breath tickles the back of your neck and you squirm. 

“I’m not ready for you to see me like that! If we’re at that stage it means-” you stop abruptly before you could spill the beans. 

“Hmm? What does it mean?” Zayne rolls you onto your other side so that he can look at you. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, listening to the barely contained rumble of his mirth. 

“It means we’re in an actual relationship. Where you see me all gross and untidy and I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

You hear his breath hitch, and when there’s no response you boldly glance up at him. There’s a depth of softness there that you hadn’t seen before and your heart skips a beat as you see it; his gaze is making you melt and sends tingles through your body.

“Oh my god. You think we’re there.” There’s a moment of tense quiet as your heart hammers in your chest before he gathers you close to him. 

“Yes. I think we’re there. Is that bad?” Zayne murmurs into your ear and you feel like your being might burst from the tenderness of his embrace. 

“No. It’s not bad.” You play with his hands, letting your palms lay flat on each other, intertwining your fingers with his. “I wasn’t sure is all.”

“Then let me remove any doubts you may have.” Zayne kisses your forehead. “We are together. It is serious. And I’m honestly not bothered if you haven’t had time to shave.”

You swallow and look up at him. “Thank you for telling me. I like that. Us being serious.”

A calm atmosphere replaces the previous tension, and you relax in his arms as he strokes your back. “Would you like to go to sleep?” he asks quietly. You consider it, then shake your head.

“No. I want to pick up where we stopped.” You take a deep breath then say, “Can you give me a little time? I’ll shave right now and we can get back into it.”

“Oh? You’re ok to tell me you want to shave now?” There’s humor in his tone. 

“Yeah now that we’re serious. I think I can openly tell you that now.”

“Do you want any help?” The deep, sultry way he murmurs the question has your stomach doing flips. Wetting your lips you let out an awkward laugh.

“No! I mean why would you want to help me with that anyway?” Your pulse quickens as you realize he’s completely serious, based on the new intensity that forms in his eyes. 

“Why not? I have a clear vantage point. I can see all of it, but I’m sure it must be challenging for you. Not to mention…I have a very delicate touch. Surgeon’s hands and all.” Zayne flourishingly flexes his fingers and you lay down on the bed as a fit of giggles captures you.

“Zayne stop it! I can do it on my own, really!” You shake your head at the image of him kneeling between your legs with a razor in hand. “Why are you so keen on this anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a certain someone once told me I’m not allowed to do anything and then helped herself to a variety of my personal toiletries. Including my shaving cream and razor.”

You blink as his words slowly settle over you and blush as you recall the day when you’d helped shave his morning stubble, watching his demeanor become increasingly aroused until he’d snapped and you’d rode him on the rocking chair until you’d milked his cock dry. Unsure how to reply you give him a sheepish smile, receiving a smirk in return. 

“So that’s it? Revenge?” You ask as he rolls off the bed. You squeak as he pulls you towards him then scoops you up in his arms, holding you securely against his chest. 

“Not at all, darling.” He nuzzles your hair as he walks towards the bathroom. “Think of it as me returning the favor.” He switches on the light and deposits you on the large counter next to the sink. Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch him open one of the drawers and take out his shaving cream, and an unopened razor head which he replaces onto the handle of his razor after discarding the old blade. 

“Must be sanitary after all. Don’t want to bring any bacteria to such a sensitive area. Now…I believe it’s time to disrobe my patient.” Your mouth goes dry as he stands between your legs, running his hands along your bare calves before flirting with the waistband of your shorts, hooking his finger into it and tugging it down, slowly revealing your abdomen and belly button. You shiver as the elastic lowers onto your hips and brace yourself on your hands to raise your lower body, assisting him in slipping off the garment. Once it’s been discarded, his eyes fixate between your legs, and you feel the unmistakable sensation of wetness. Could anyone blame you? Zayne’s foreplay was always intense and effective, it wasn’t much of a surprise that you had a stain of moisture on your panties. 

Zayne runs a finger over the patch and you suck in a breath at the contact. A small huff of satisfaction falls from his mouth as he looks back at your face. “Were you honestly planning on staying like this all night? Aroused and denying yourself relief?” 

“I would have calmed down after a while,” you murmur defensively, letting out a hum as he leans closer to you to lick and nip your earlobe.

“What a disservice that would have been to both of us.” Transfixed, all you can do is watch as he starts to remove your panties, the small strip of fabric clearing your legs in no time and falling to the floor. Chills race down your spine as your bare ass settles on the marble counter. You avert your gaze as Zayne takes a look at your hairy mound, the coarse, curly hair fully visible on your sex. He gently pats your knee.

“Open.” The word is a gentle command and despite the heat rushing to your face, you obey and part your legs, letting him have an unfiltered view of your unshaven pussy. You feel moisture gather in your core under his gaze, a familiar throbbing feeling returning to your clit, and your nipples start to perk up under your pajama top. A strangled gasp falls from your lips as his fingers softly pet the tatch of hair, running a finger down the crease of your thigh before he takes your ankles and sets them up at an angle on the edge of the counter.

Your sex was now fully on display to his probing vision and, heat and need gathering in your lower belly as he ran his fingertip down the partition that separated the labia from the inner membranes, then running it superficially over the length of your slit, and you can’t help but make a quick bucking motion at the touch. 

“Soon. I promise.” Zayne reaches for the shaving cream, pressing down on the nozzle until the foamy substance falls onto his fingers. He carefully spreads the cream all over your mound, the edges of your labia, and the creases of your inner thighs. Every small stroke only stokes the fire inside you, the unexpected eroticism of the act making you wetter and eager to feel his fingers on a more intimate spot. Your breath catches as the cold, metal edge of the razor is felt on your skin, and then with a smooth dragging motion, you feel your hair part company with your skin. The quiet noise of the blade removing your hair fills the bathroom, punctuated with the sound of both your breathing and the soft taps of the razor as Zayne clears the head into the sink. 

He’s meticulous and patient, slanting the instrument delicately to get into the small nooks and using a firm but delicate touch to hold apart your lips as he works the razor near the delicate spots, then going lower to the back ends of the labia near your core. Time seems to move slower under his ministrations, and when he’s finally satisfied with his work, he takes a small hand towel which he runs under warm water from the sink before cleaning off the excess shaving cream. You peek down to admire his handiwork, seeing how smooth your skin looked, at how tidy and tamed it now was. 

Your clit was conspicuously visible now, unconcealed from the hair that was hiding it from view. You can feel it throb from the attention and your calves quiver from holding yourself apart for so long on the counter. You’re about to drop them down when Zayne firmly puts his hands on your knees. “Just a little longer.” 

You don’t dare move as he bends, his breath ghosting your sensitive skin which feels even more naked than usual with the missing hair. You sensed what he was about to do before it happened. A soft moan of wantonness leaves your lips and echoes off the tiles of the bathroom as Zayne’s clever tongue delves into your folds, lapping at the gathering honey that’s been accumulating all night. He leisurely dives into your hole, letting the watery nectar flow into his mouth. Your cunt was ripe with the scent of desire and it takes all his strength to not senselessly fuck you on the counter at this very moment. 

His tongue drags upwards sinfully, stimulating every nook and cranny of your delicate sex before teasingly flicking against the base of your clit, upsetting your balance as your hips arch forward in need. Your heels almost slide off the counter but Zayne reassuringly has you in a tight hold that keeps you in place. The little moans turn into mewls of pleasure as he sets up a rhythm, letting saliva dribble onto his tongue and slowly tracing short lines on your clit, patient little strokes from the bottom of the little bud to the top that have you squeezing your eyes closed as you try not to scream out from insanity. His spit combines with your arousal and pools down at the base of your cunt, a little messy puddle forming on the counter. 

Your hands keep flexing before finally finding purchase on his shoulders, squeezing them tight, and you hear a low noise from Zayne as your fingernails dig into his skin. You’d never felt so exposed, so utterly defenseless, all of you display for him to toy with as he pleased. You can feel your walls spasming in expectation and let out a quavering whine as you feel his fingers probing your entrance, pushing into you and scissoring inside to stretch you out. As he begins to stroke that spongy patch of nerves inside you, you feel the control snapping away from your body like a curtain being ripped off its hooks. Unashamedly, you moan, your hips undulating on his face as Zayne pushes you to the point of ecstasy.

You cry out sharply as you orgasm, the delicious spasm of ripples from within bubbling into your core and sending a heady rush into your system. The aftershocks continued to trickle through you, and Zayne slowly pulled his fingers out, covered in your essence. He places a soft kiss on your clit, a tender gesture that has your heartwarming despite the carnal act that had just taken place. He licks his fingers clean, then cups your cheek lovingly, taking in the sight of your flushed face and bright eyes, the way your hardened nipples showed up through your sleep top. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Darling…What am I supposed to do with you looking so delightfully sweet right now?” His thumbs brush the sides of your breasts you’re acutely aware of how close he is to losing control. You can feel the rock-hard push of his cock against your legs and his breath mingling with yours as he leans down for a hot kiss. You taste the salty tang of your arousal coating his lips and greedily suck his tongue, reveling in the flavor and the muffled gasp of desire that bubbles from Zayne’s chest. His strong arms hook around you and you feel your bottom part contact with the counter and wrap your legs around him instinctively. Not breaking the kiss and positive he was taking you back to bed, you fumble with the elastic of his pajama bottoms, sliding them down with your feet and teasingly pressing against the heated flesh. 

Zayne’s body tenses at the feeling of your toes strolling along the length of his cock and he feels something primal unleash in his belly. Thoughts of a soft bed and taking it slowly are driven from his mind barely a few steps out of the bathroom door. He turns and you feel your back come in contact with the wall, eyes opening hazily as a string of saliva connects your tongue to his. 

“You make me insatiable you little minx.” Zayne growls in your ear and supports you against the wall as he tries to free himself from the confines of his pajamas. “Didn’t think shaving your cunt would get me this hard.” Swaying in his arms and seeing his struggle, you carefully unwrap a leg from around his waist and use it to push down the pajama pants all the way, hearing them swish to the floor as they pool around his ankles. 

You pull your leg back up and resume your position, purring in his ear. “Maybe we’ll make that a permanent arrangement then.” A growl of approval rumbles from within him as he holds you firmly in the air against the firmness of the wall. You slide your body ever so slightly, reaching down to help position him as he pushes upwards and notches his thick, weeping, cockhead at your entrance. You let your body slide further, moaning as he instinctively closes the gap between your bodies. The eroticism of the moment is heightened by the sensation of your pajama tops brushing against each other while your bare lower halves worked in harmony to seek and provide each other with the intimate pleasure you’d been craving all night.

Zayne’s hot, velvety, length glides into your wetness, each thrust pressing you back against the wall. Helpless to anything else but cling to him you moan sexily in his ear, holding onto him for dear life. Each stroke sent bursts of euphoria through you, your pants growing heavier and more broken as your nails dig into his back. You feel tension in his body, finally realizing how badly he’d been craving you all night and your body completely surrenders to his movements, content to let him have you anyway he pleased. 

Wet noises fill the air as Zayne ruts into you, his tip kissing your cervix and brushing against your gspot, his hips deliciously thrusting against yours. The stretch and fill of him felt undeniably satisfying. You stroke his hair, whispering endearments to him as he chases his orgasm. The soft feel of your lips near his ear encouraging him to let go have Zayne’s vision growing fuzzy at the edges, his fingers digging into your flesh as though you’re an anchor. His abdomen is taut with anticipation, balls heavy and ready to unload themselves.

His eyes squeeze shut as he feels every little contraction of your pussy on him, then finally gives in to the demanding needs of his body. The coil snaps in his belly and the ecstatic contractions of gratification grip his body as he thrusts into you as high as he can, sheathing himself fully into your wetness, thick jets of his seed rushing forward to paint your womb. He moans as he waits for the contractions to subside, then gently caresses your cheek, easing his body out of yours as he helps you off the wall. Your legs quiver and burn from the position they’d been in and you lean on him for support, clenching your walls as you feel the naughty liquidy slip of his seed about to fall from your channel. 

He tenderly runs his hands over your body, pressing kisses to your hair, then cradles you against him. “How are your legs?” he inquires and you chuckle weakly, feeling a sheen of sweat coating his chest.

“They hurt. But I think I’ll survive,” you say jokingly. Zayne huffs and starts leading you back to bed. You lie down on the cool sheets, eyes heavy with fatigue, and snuggle into Zayne’s body. 

Gentle moonlight falls across both of you as he strokes your back soothingly, bringing an uncontrollable wave of sleep across your body. As you settle down for the night, there’s a deep sense of comfort in knowing that Zayne was now going to be a constant in your life and you smile sleepily into his neck before succumbing to your dreams.

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

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