#and anyway sometimes it is just Not That Deep

[simonbrain]

giving simon a blowjob for your own comfort because today was stressful and you were two seconds away from swerving off the road into a tree on your way home, and all you want is something in your mouth to distract you from your prick of a boss.

you're sitting between his legs, a large hand threaded through your hair and a pillow shoved beneath your knees. he's so thick, your lips stretched thin around his cock as it sits limp and heavy in your mouth. it always starts like this: you taking simon in soft and gradually feeling him fill out on your tongue. he tastes so simon, a little salty and sweaty, but he also smells faintly of body wash, and the musk of him completely overwhelms your senses and lulls you into a deep sense of security.

simon thinks you look so pretty like this. adores his girl on her knees, sucking him in so good, mouth warm and wet. your soft tongue rests beneath his cock, occasionally twitching and rubbing up against him before stilling again. your eyes have slipped shut now, and usually he would coo at you to open them because he loves seeing how teary they get when he's filling you up like this, but he's feeling a little nice. it won't last long, but he'll let you have this moment.

he chuckles fondly when you rest your head against his thigh, a content look on your face. you look so sweet, and he feels a little bad for thinking of all the things he wants to do to you right now.

but something in his eyes flickers, and whatever little amount of guilt he was feeling has been snuffed out because when he notices saliva escaping out the corners of your mouth and running down your chin, he bucks his hips up, a sick part of him buzzing in approval when he hears you choke a little and sees your eyes open, staring up at him in question. there's a furrow in your eyebrows and he pets your head, settling back down against the couch.

"sorry," simon rumbles quietly, huffing in amusement when you roll your eyes a little but ultimately accept his apology and flutter them closed again. he mumbles an affectionate brat but lets you get away with it.

he's fully hard now, and he's struggling to not just slip in a little further until the tip presses against the back of your throat. he knows that this is more for you than him; you're doing this for yourself because you like to decompress this way. it eases your mind and sends you away to a little place where the only thing you're thinking about is simon. it would be selfish of him to take that away from you.

yet he does anyway. he wouldn't be yours if he wasn't a dick sometimes. he'll earn your forgiveness later.

your eyes shoot open when you feel fingers pinch your nose shut; whatever sound was about to come out of your mouth is muffled by simon easing more of his meaty cock down your throat. suddenly it feels like too much, and your wet eyes dart up to simon, but he only strokes your cheek with his thumb, a warm look on his face.

"there are those bright eyes of yours," simon murmurs, his gaze so soft and loving as he slowly begins to work your head down on him, letting his fingers slip from your nose and instead rest on his knee. "good girl, doing so well f'me, pet. breathe—tha's it."

the change in pace has you whimpering, saliva spluttering out onto his lap and running down your neck. he's not going too rough, not as rough as you know he wants to be, but it still has you going limp as he uses your mouth.

"tight little throat," he groans quietly to himself, his cock pulsing on your tongue, so fucking fat that you almost can't breathe. you have no choice but to take it, whines getting stuck in your throat. the taste of pre-cum swirls around your mouth, mixing with your saliva, and it has you keening for more.

"gonna cum righ' here, baby," he croons, a hand going down to rest on your throat, rough fingers rubbing gently to feel himself filling you up, making you accommodate for his length. "so fuckin' good to me."

simon groans deeply when he cums, his hand keeping a firm grip on your head as you take it all in, unable to stop yourself from choking. he stays like that for a few seconds longer after his orgasm before finally relenting to give you a break, pulling himself out to examine your ruined state.

you're a right mess—a mixture of tears, saliva and cum all over your face. he shushes you when you cough and whimper a little and leans down, inspecting you closer. your mouth parts open slightly, and—fuck, there it is. his cum pooling in your sweet little mouth.

"sorry, sweet'art. overdid it a bit, didn't i?" he hums quietly, petting your hair apologetically when you whine in response. "it's alright, come here lovie. i'll make it up to ya."

you moan softly when he begins to lick into your mouth, mopping up the cum you couldn't swallow with his tongue until he's kissing you, wet and sloppy and much too disgusting, but you don't care. he's nasty with the eye contact too; eyes cracked open as he stares down at you, his still hard cock twitching in his grasp.

when he parts, a thick string of saliva drips between you, the sight stirring heat in your belly. it's a filthy mess of fluids covering the both of you, but simon only cares about returning the favour.

"on the sofa, love," he murmurs, patting your cheek gently and spreading his legs to allow you to get up. he rids himself of his shorts and tucks his cock back into his briefs before sliding between your legs, peeling off your pants and soaked underwear.

your cunt sits pretty on display for him to salivate over, his eyes focused on the wet mess between your thighs before he's leaning in and pressing a kiss on your clit, then on your hole. he's fucking kissing your pussy as if it were a person, and you think you're going to combust, and then he looks up, his dark brown eyes warm and dilated. yeah, you're definitely going to burn up and sizzle away if your heated face is any indication.

"let me apologise properly, sweet girl."

[mead-iocre]

Free Kick | Alexia Putellas x Reader

synopsis: you help alexia practice her free kicks

warnings: none

wc: 2.3k words

The sun hung low, casting a warm, golden hue over the pitch. The air was filled with the strong smell of freshly cut grass, the aroma so strong it nearly stung your nose but you were used to it. The goal stood lone— silent and imposing— the net hanging still. 

You cast your eyes over to your girlfriend in her natural habitat. You still weren’t used to seeing this side to her. Alexia Putellas, the footballer. La Reina. Champions League Champion, Balloon d’Or winner, the list goes on. But to you, she was just Alexia. The woman you kissed goodnight, and woke up beside the next morning. The woman who would stop in the middle of the street to bend down and tie your shoelaces for you. The same woman, who after a long day of practice, would never forget to stop by your favourite bakery to bring you a box of freshly made Ensaimadas. 

So seeing this side of her still stunned you sometimes. You watched as the Barcelona captain stepped back a few paces, her bright orange cleats pressing lightly into the grass. She rolled her shoulders back, shaking off any tension, and stared straight at the goal. She once told you that whenever she was practicing her free kicks, she would picture an imaginary wall of defenders– never letting herself work with an empty net. She would tell you that in real matches, players rarely get a shot at a free net so they should not get used to training with one. 

With a nod to herself and a quick deep breath, you watched on as she began her run-up. Her steps were measured and deliberate, graceful and agile. As she reached the spot, her non-kicking foot planted firmly on the turf, she swung her right leg in a powerful arc. The impact was solid, a satisfying thud that sent the ball soaring over the space in place of defenders. Hazel eyes followed its flight, watching as it curved gracefully, spinning toward the top corner of the net. The ball brushed the inside of the post and hit the back of the netting with a satisfying swish. You could imagine how addicting it must be as a football player, seeing your shots kiss the back of the net– like a sort of dopamine release every time they score goals. 

It was a good goal, impressive even, but your girlfriend was far from done. 

You’ve been sitting there for some time. For a while, you were content to fiddle with your phone. However, it’s been close to two hours and your girlfriend did not look like she was finished any time soon. You were, quite frankly, getting bored. Standing up and dusting yourself off of any remnants of turf, you walk towards where the midfielder was chugging a bottle of water. 

“Hey baby,” You hand her a towel, noticing just how sweaty she was up close. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a few loose strands sticking against her damp forehead. Her tan skin shiny with perspiration, glistening under the bright sun. Her cheeks flushed red, droplets of sweat ran down her temples. 

But she gives you a sweet smile anyway. 

“Todo bien?” Alexia asks you as she accepts the towel, one hand coming up to squeeze your hip in thanks.

You hum in reply, taking the time to admire her while she’s preoccupied with the towel. “Pero soy aburrido” 

Alexia laughs lightly, the towel over her mouth. She’s been teaching you little bits of Spanish and you’ve been picking up on it fairly well— most of the time. She has the sudden urge to love on you. Her hand comes up to squeeze your cheeks together until your lips form a pout. She kisses your lips once, and then again, her lips curved up against yours. 

“estoy aburrido, amour”, She corrects gently, looking at you with warm, affectionate eyes. You love the way her eyes light up every time you put your Spanish learning to use. 

“Ahh si. Estoy aburrido” 

You don’t notice the way she observes you quietly as you mumble the Spanish word a few more times to yourself. That familiar concentrated expression on your face, the scrunch of your eyebrows and the slight tilt of your head, as if you’re trying to tuck away the new word in your brain for later. Alexia loves that you are so eager to learn her language. It’s just one of the many, many things she loves about you. 

“Hace mucho calor. You can wait inside if it’s too hot here…”

You shake your head. “The sun is setting soon and besides– maybe I can help you train again?”

Alexia smirks knowing exactly what happened the last time you helped her with her free kicks. But maybe “helped” wasn’t the right word. You didn’t really do much– all you had to do is gather the balls, kick them to her, and gather them again. You would argue your presence was Alexia’s good luck charm, and she probably wouldn’t refute that.

“Vale. How many?”

“Hm,” You tap your finger against you chin, looking deep in thought. Alexia watches you with a small smile on her face, but the smile vanishes the next moment. “score ten and I’ll give you a kiss.”

“joder. Ten?! The last time we did this you only asked for five,” Alexia starts, but you were already walking away and gathering a few balls, taking your position to the side of the goal. 

“Yeah, well I want ten today.” 

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes as walks to take her place by the free kick line– but not before muttering “do you even know how to say ten in Spanish?” under her breath.

She probably didn’t mean for you to hear it, but you did, so you answer her anyway. “Diez.”

Alexia shoots you a look, unimpressed by your sass, but she doesn't try to fight the smile threatening her lips. You flash her a bright smile of your own and signal to her that you were about to start passing her the ball.  

"Vale. Let's start," Positioning a ball by your feet, you wait until she gives you a thumbs up before kicking the ball towards her. She receives it easily; lightly tapping the ball with the outside of her boot, letting it bounce high, before sending it rocketing towards the net.

Alexia turns her head to look at you, one eyebrow raised, a corner of her lips turned up slightly. A quiet victory. She was taunting you almost, an air of confidence in her stance. She was going to score 10 free kicks, and she was going to get that kiss.

1

“See, easy. No idea why you were whining about scoring 10” You clap, pointing at the ball in the net, with another ball posed by your feet.

“I do not whine,” She calls out to you, a slight whine in her tone ironically. “Hurry— I want my kiss”

Being the girlfriend of a footballer meant you were familiar with the basics, thanks to the countless amount of times your girlfriend would beg you to join her for a kick around the park. Memories of her nagging you about your foot placement and techniques ring around in your head as you pass her the next ball.

She scores that one too.

2

Alexia received the next ball from your pass easily, nudging it slightly to the left this time with her foot. She was varying her technique, making small changes to make sure she was ready for whatever position the ball would be coming from. Whenever you would ask about why she would repeat the same drill over and over again, she would tell you that she needed to be versatile, unpredictable. You kick the next ball.

3

The midfielder repeated the same process, focusing on differenting her technique—sometimes curling the ball with the inside of her foot, other times going for a powerful, straight shot. 

Swish 

You kick another ball towards her, using the inside of your foot just like she taught you. 

4

“I’m quite good at this,” You raise your voice slightly from your spot, shielding your eyes from the blazing sun. The wind picks up slightly, the breeze lifting the stray strands of your hair.

It was quiet but you catch it-- your girlfriend's non-committal hum in reply. Her focus right now was solely on the ball. She kicks and this time the ball rocketed off the inside of her right foot. It arched gracefully mid-flight, dipping just in time to kiss the underside of the crossbar before nestling into the back of the net.

5

“I’m a great– what do you call it again– rebounder!” You gleefully kick the next ball towards her. You don’t mean to disrupt her concentration, but you were a yapper by nature.

6

Luckily your girlfriend has enough focus for the both of you.

Alexia signals to you that she’s ready for another ball, her focus on perfecting her technique unwavering, but seems willing enough to entertain your ramblings. “That’s basketball, mi amour. All you’re doing is passing me the ball”

7 

You huff, rolling your eyes. Leave it up to your girlfriend to concern herself about the semantics. “…well, I’m a great passer then”

When you don’t hear a reply you turn your eyes to her, but she is already looking at you. The ball you had just kicked over to her now sitting still beneath her boot. You raise a hand up, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun, squinting at her. She has that soft look on her face, a familiar one that she reserved only for you. She looks at you for a moment, the corners of her lips turned up slightly at the ends, head tilted slightly to the side. Nursing her bottom lip underneath her teeth, she looks as if she is trying to stop herself from saying something. Like a child with a secret they are close to bursting to share. 

“What?” You raise you voice slightly so she can hear you over the distance. 

She raises her head, hazel eyes locked on yours, her smile warm and familiar. “Nada. I just love you.”

“Oh.” 

The words send a wave of warmth through your entire body. Your cheeks flush, and you can feel the corners of your lips stretching into a shy smile. You look down at your old, worn converse shoes. It's these little moments that always catch you off guard, that make you feel like you’re experiencing love for the first time. You once thought love was fleeting, that it comes and goes, but since meeting Alexia you discovered that love was steady– it was constant. But it was also easy. Falling in love with her was the easiest thing you have ever done. Even after a year of dating the Barcelona captain, those words still make your heart swell with a familiar warmth. Those three words have become a daily affirmation, a constant in your life that has never lost its significance. After all this time, hearing "I love you" still makes your chest tighten, but in a way where you can breath easier. It’s not just a declaration anymore; it’s a quiet, steady truth.

“Oh? Que oh” The spaniard raises a perfect eyebrow at you, her tone light and teasing. “I tell you I love you and all you can say is “oh?”

You huff audibly, rolling your eyes at her. You run your hand through your hair, trying to brush away the embarrassment. “You’re only at 7 so far. Apúrate! Or else no kiss”

Alexia shakes her head but goes back to position. She toes the ball carefully, aligning it with the spot where she wanted to take her shot. She kicks.

8

Alexia turns to you, a grin settled on her mouth. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts. “I’m getting that kiss, amour!” 

You kick another ball towards her, trying to hide the growing smile on your face. This playful side to her was exclusive only to you, a side of her that she kept separate from the footballer persona.

9 

When you kick the final ball towards her, you were panting slightly. But seeing your girlfriend launch the ball into the net was worth the unplanned exercise.

10

The net rippled, shaking with the impact as you watched the ball settle behind the line, your lips break out into a a smile and you excitedly turn to look at Alexia, but she was already making her way towards you.

She moved towards you with deliberate slowness, the soft thump of her boots pressing into the grass was the only sound you could hear. Your pulse quickened, every inch closer making you more aware of the way her eyes never left yours— her hazel eyes darker than usual.

You stood rooted, hands clenching and unclenching by your sides, watching her approach. There was a haughtiness in her demeanour as she moved towards you. Her chest rose and fell slightly, but her focus is unwavering. The space between the two of you shrank until she was just inches away, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but still holding back.

She stopped in front of you, breath hitching, her lips parted, hazel eyes flicking down to your mouth. You feel her finger slip into the band of your sweatpants, tugging you into her so that there is barely any space between the two of you. Her other hand grips your chin, nudging it upwards until her your breath mingles with hers. She leans in, daring you. "Now give me my kiss, amour."

Without waiting a moment longer, you stand on your tiptoes and close the gap, your hands coming up to cradle her face as your lips crashed into hers.

The kiss was fierce, almost desperate. Her hands slid into your hair as your fingers gripped her red and blue training top. You pull her, moulding your body into hers, completely, wholly, lost in the kiss.

You break away slightly, your eyes inadvertently falling to her bottom lip that was now red and swollen from your kiss. You bite your own lip, loving the slightly dazed look in her eyes. Leaning back into her, you whisper "You better score the next free kick you take" into her smiling lips.

this was inspried by alexia's free kick vs nigeria. hope this was worth the wait <3

・❥・- kisses, butter

[strwberri-milk]

Hiii can I request a reader that plays otome games? Like reader plays a game that’s basically like lads and how the guys would react to that. Would they not care, would they be jealous? If reader has a favorite character would they dislike the character or would they think it’s cute? Anyway I love you work 💗

(Sorry for my bad english)

Zayne is pretty secure in your relationship but that doesn't mean he doesn't get jealous. If you're starting to spend more time playing your game then with him then he'll start asking if the game is really all that fun for you to be ignoring him so blatantly. He's not genuinely angry at you of course but he is teasing you about it.

You reassure him that you love him and this is just a game that you don't really think about that much. He believes you but sometimes he'll be more than happy to distract you if it means getting you off your phone to spend some time with him. If your favourite character resembles him though he'll be a little more forgiving since he's kind of flattered.

Xavier doesn't like it. He subtly disses the character and asks if he's really all that interesting. You think it's cute how Xavier pouts a little, not outwardly saying that he's jealous of the character but he definitely is acting like he is very jealous. He looks at you pointedly if you're playing the game on your phone, asking if you really needed to do that right now.

You can tease him about being jealous but he won't ever admit it. He might just get a little more possessive with his touches and tell you that your favourite character really can't compare to him since he's a living, breathing, person. He doesn't like hearing about your fake men so you don't talk about it around him.

Rafayel is definitely jealous but in a playful manner. He knows that you love him and that you just like the game as well. He'll watch you play the game, rolling his eyes or declaring how it's so boring and he doesn't understand why you're still playing but for whatever reason he's also a little intrigued as he watches it while laying on your chest.

Sometimes he'll ask you how your "affair" is going, treating the whole thing light heartedly. He is still jealous to an extent but it's nothing that's wildly different from his typical demeanour with you.

Sylus doesn't really care. He knows that he can do whatever it is that digital character does for you way better. However, that does mean he's going to also get a little more possessive, reaching for your hand or wrapping an arm around your waist.

He doesn't like it when you play the game in bed, taking your phone out of your hands as he pulls you on top of him. He'll ask you with a slight mocking tone if you really think that character can love you the way he does - reminding you of his feelings for you with a deep kiss.

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[nephilimbrute]

ok since you guys don't know anything about my agent 8's personality, i'm doing a huge infodump on them. enjoy

Agent 8; they/them, nonbinary — 24 as of current time, in a relationship with Agent 4 and Captain 3

they're pretty, but also one of the worst people you'll meet. everyone who met them has had something terrible happen to them, basically a bad omen...yet they still think they're a saint! 8 is very narcissistic, but also very self-critical. they think they can be the only one to do something, that they're the best at it...but they know this is wrong, so they hate themself for it

they think they're a very fragile and innocent being, like a deer. they want to live a calm and steady life, no excessively loud or overwhelming sounds and music, just them and their close ones. they enjoy writing poetry and creating art to the likes of vincent van gogh, but also impressionism in general. they have a very bad memory now, so they want to capture the present time as best as they can if it ever gets worse. often times, 8 thinks about any big events that are coming up in the near future (concerts, festivals, etc.). they don't like to think about the future outside of these things (was team present if that wasn't obvious)

they used to be full of emotion, expressing and voicing their thoughts well. but slowly over time, they've became numb to most things to prevent themself from being embarassed by...sadness. they think being upset is embarassing, and are easily annoyed by gloomy people. they have such little sympathy, but it still exists. they are capable of love! it's not hard to crack through their shell, nor do they even have one. 8 themself is aware of how they've changed over the years, and they want to go back to how they used to be; loving, sympathetic, mindful of others. they do feel very sorry for the change in their personality, but the partial sanitization that was done to them makes it difficult to revert to their old self

8 feels like they're putting up a front when they want to be nice, and, they can be compassionate and apologetic sometimes. they deeply wish for anyone who recognized them pre-octo expansion to forgive them, even if they did nothing wrong

because of the whole octo expansion situation, 8 has developed truman syndrome, paranoia, and heavily dislikes anything involving a smart AI or robotics. this is one of the reasons why marina pisses them off so badly. to 8, they think that they've caused no harm, and every mistake they've done was not entirely their fault. they make a lot of people uncomfortable in some way without touching anyone or saying anything. despite all that, they respect people's personal space a lot!..other than pearl and marina, who they used to watch sleep before being kicked out

now, onto their relationships. 8 is doing fine with agent 4, he's nice to them so they like him... but so is cap3, yet 8 might be one of the worst things that ever happened to her. cap3 really wants some alone time and hates being stared at, and 8 does the exact opposite of that. they don't touch her at her request, but they Will stare at her whenever she's doing anything, at any given time. they don't process in their mind that they want to make her uncomfortable, they just sort of...do?

^ i only limited this to a bit so i won't delve Too deep and go off topic. you can ask about that if you want

i guess you could say they have some kind of parental issues? i don't know, they can't remember who their biological parents are anyways. they have a strong attachment to marina though, can't decide if they wanna be her or want her to adopt them. kind of "eh" with pearl, still respects him nonetheless

congratulations! if you've read until the end, here's a human 8 doodle :3

[theoxenfree]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 2.8k

you're mystified by the strange noises coming from the basement. despite your uncle attempting to thwart your concerns, you make your way downstairs into the basement one night and come across an appalling sight, and soon enough, a blooming infatuation.

warnings; 18+, double penetration, explicit sexual details, imprisonment (not mc), some unsettling details, roughly proofread, repost from my old blog 2kmps.

this is a concept piece for a potentially long one-shot! pls answer the feedback questions at the end + reblog!! it really helps to develop a well-rounded story for y'all!

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Uncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, Uncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Uncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

"Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: so, this idea has unfortunately never been able to fully develop from a lack of ideas. with starting this new blog, I'm hoping to get enough interest and feedback to actually commit to this and bring a completed project eventually!!

are you satisfied with how the aquatic monster was written in this piece? what would you be interested in having added/taken away? what do you think could be improved upon/expanded? is there anything you're particularly curious about?

what sort of setting would you like to see this story take place? 19th century, the 90s, or modern e.g. 2010+? are you satisfied with the setting being in cape tellis? a location inspired by lighthouse coastlines with predominately dreary/cool/wet weather? if not, what type of setting would you prefer to see?

in terms of the storyline, are you more interested in seeing: 1) a relative goes missing, so you arrive at the lighthouse he owned to solve the mystery 2) mc being an underwater mechanic to fix a damaged dam 3) mc being part of a small group trying to capture proof of a "creature" lurking around cape tellis. 4) something else???

[apostaterevolutionary]

I am so sorry, apparently it’s 2024 and I’m arguing about dragon age again lmao. How did I get here! Why is this happening!! Time is a flat circle!!!

Anyway. People can feel how they want about the past games not mattering in this game. If you’re cool with it, I’m happy for you. But there’s one particular argument in defence of this choice that is really, really bothering me and I have to rant

The thing I keep seeing is “well all this other stuff has nothing to do with the main plot or Rook, so it should be cut” and that’s. Not a good way to tell stories in my opinion. Because here’s the thing: it’s not about the Big Overall Plot. It’s about the characters that live in this world, big and small

I’m going to use the example of Varric and Hawke cause I think it’s the easiest to explain quickly. Varric is a storyteller. That’s the defining trait of his character. He tells stories, and sometimes they’re true and sometimes they’re not and sometimes it’s something in between. In DA2 he tells you about his brother. In inquisition, he talks about hawke and there’s banter about several of the companions. Most of these are just little one liners that don’t “serve the overall plot” but they serve Varric’s character

And that matters

So if we take this character known for telling stories about people that have been in his life, well, he largely can’t do that now. How can he talk about Hawke, someone who can be a very close friend of his, without even their gender being a choice you can select? Or whether Varric should be saying ‘is’ or ‘was’ about them? How can he talk about the companions in DA2 or inquisition when a lot of them don’t have to be recruited or can die? Will he limit himself to only characters that are guaranteed to be a part of it and alive? Or is it that he and Rook will have such a shallow relationship that Varric, of all characters, never talks about his life and past exploits?

Or has Varric as a character changed so much that he doesn’t even want to tell stories anymore? That Hawke living or dying means nothing to him? That the friendships he built with people in 2 games mean nothing to him? That he’s become literally unrecognizable?

This is where the problem is. Sure, Rook maybe doesn’t care about these people they’ve never met. But do they care about Varric? What about if a companion mentions an old friend of theirs, talks about an experience they had that made them who they are - is that only okay if that experience isn’t from a previous game? Or are all the characters so flat that we never learn anything about their connections to others outside of Rook? Is this story SO focused on this player character and this plot that NOTHING else matters, even within the world, and there’s no depth to be found in any of the characters that feature in it?

Writing characters so that they only ever talk about things that “directly serve the plot” is how you get flat, unremarkable, boring, forgettable characters. And that’s not something I would have accused bioware of doing even if some instalments are stronger in this area than others. But it sounds like that’s what they’re doing here, at least with the past characters. Cause sure, maybe Morrigan is so closed off she’ll never mention her son and partner. That’s believable, even if iffy given that they’ve said she’s going to be more involved than we think. But Varric? VARRIC??? Never mentioning ANY of the people he used to spend time with and care about except Solas and maybe some of the inquisition characters that can’t die or not be recruited but also carefully skirting around what happened to them in the game? That’s literally not the same character

And I would expand this to like. A letter mentioning this or a codex mentioning that, or ambient dialogue about so and so - that makes the world feel deep and those random, unimportant NPCs feel richer by connecting them to the larger world. It’s not about “serving the plot”, it’s about making your world and characters deep enough that they feel real, lived in, and like something we can actually care about

[lady-phasma]

Armand N$FW Alphabet

I’m trying not to make these what I want to do to/with him but they are headcanon. Note: I headcanon him as omnisexual so the below works with all genders.

Warnings: I don't really think I need to put this given the title but MDNI. Mentions of sex, implied trauma, just graphic in general.

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Armand is kind and soft afterward. No matter the scenario he will check on his partner’s emotional state and offer them comfort if needed. As for himself, he won’t ask for it but sometimes he needs it (especially after anything D/s related). Although he’s usually pretty chill and relaxed afterward, at times he can be energetic and chatty. The more intense, the more chill he will be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

This is heartbreaking, but I don’t think Armand would have a favorite of his own. He’s not vain in that way and is really insecure. He does like to show off his tiddies though. As for his partner: eyes. I think he would be enamored with the eyes of all his partners.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

A lot. I’ll throw in some weird TVC headcanon I’ve had for over 20 years: vampire cum is pale pink. It’s a blood thing, like their tears. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this stuff. Armand cums a lot. I mean a lot. (More detail under S below.) He’s indifferent to it with his partners as long as they climax, he doesn’t have a cum kink but it’s turned off by it either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

All of them! But seriously, maybe that he enjoys being a switch. I think Armand is much more Dominant with women, but not always. He’s very into whatever his partner is into and adjusts easily. It’s a secret because he wants to be whatever his partner needs, but he also truly enjoys the fluidity and flexibility of being a switch within the context of D/s.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Very experienced and very talented. No matter what parts his partner is rocking Armand has experience. He’s very open-minded about sex and, although maybe not particularly laid back, he has learned a lot in his time. He doesn’t like everything, but he has probably done it at least once.

F = Favorite position

As with most things, this will depend on Armand’s partner. However, he really enjoys being on the bottom and watching his partner if at all possible. Even when he feels Dominant with his partner he enjoys being underneath them. I don’t know that he has an absolute favorite, but he wants to be able to see his partner.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Armand is very serious most of the time, but not uptight during sexy times. Silly things happen during sex and he’s probably experienced it all anyway. There’s no point in making his partner nervous or embarrassed. He’s not going to be giggling during the act, but he will certainly laugh when appropriate.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is so well groomed! Series canon shows us that he cares about his appearance. He is nothing if not fastidious. His pubic hair would never be neglected and it definitely matches the drapes and his glorious chest hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment?)

Armand enjoys intimacy to a degree and depending on the circumstances. He needs it more than most. It doesn’t have to be deep, but it has to be present. He is highly attuned to his partner’s emotions at any given moment so he requires that connection. Unfortunately, he doesn’t require the same attention in return. He is deeply invested in his partners and their mental/emotional state during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This act is all about efficiency and need for Armand. It’s not a self-love situation. It’s also not perfunctory exactly. He enjoys it and needs to do it. But he doesn’t light candles or watch porn. If he feels the need it’s possibly because his partner isn’t available or in the mood. It’s not a harsh affair, but it’s not going to take very long. I want to watch this so badly!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I’m going to skip the general D/s stuff because I have a couple posts about his D/s interests here and here. He’s definitely into degradation for himself (but would find it difficult to do to a partner) and he’s very into praise (for both himself and his partners). Probably his biggest kink is hands, touching and being touched (see W for more info about this). Vampires have naturally perfect manicures so their hands are generally pretty sexy, but the act of touching communicates a lot for Armand. Suck on his fingers, scratch your nails down his back, let him reciprocate, or just a soft graze of the back of your fingers against his cheek, hands might be his biggest turn on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his own home or domicile, for sure. He needs to feel safe to let his guard down completely. He doesn’t care where, but he will be most present and relaxed in his own space (or that of his partners). He does enjoy a little public action and isn’t above public displays of affection. However, he can be himself most comfortably in a safe, familiar place.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I interpreted this two ways: Armand gets excited by seeing his partner get excited and that he gets turned on by words as much as physical touch. Praise him, tell him how beautiful he is, how much you want to do to him and what (or what you want him to do to you), tell him how much you truly desire him and he’s ready to go. But watching his partner react to his words/touch makes him horny in a different way entirely. He can’t get enough of watching their eyelids flutter or them bite their lower lips involuntarily.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Hard limits would be “dirty,” human bodily functions. He’s too old, too fastidious, too him to be into any of that. He doesn’t enjoy being restrained or tied up. If his partner holds him down a safe word can trigger immediate release, but the time to untie knots, etc would take too long and he’d have to use his strength to break them. That doesn’t interest him. Pin him down because he lets you overpower him? That’s sexier anyway.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Armand loves giving oral! He is enthusiastic and talented. Not only does he get completely engrossed in the act, he likes to use it to overstim his partners if they really enjoy oral. He likes receiving as well, but is usually less focused on his on enjoyment than that of his partner. In light of that, if his partner is submissive or just enjoys giving, he will happily receive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like most things, this depends on the mood/vibe of the situation, but Armand is typically slow and sensual if he’s in charge. However, slow and sensual doesn’t exclude rough this alphabet is from a template so I wanted to point that out. Whether he’s in charge or not, fast and hard can be a lot of fun for him, but maybe likes that best when he’s submissive.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Armand loves spontaneity in his sex life. Anywhere, anytime. But if the quickie turns into something more, that’s fine by him. He likes to flirt and imply, goading his partner into initiating the quickie even if he won’t initiate himself. He especially enjoys quickies as a surprise. He doesn’t mind if it’s in public or private, quickies are fun and add interest to his sex life.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So many. He likes trying new things with people. He enjoys pushing his boundaries and helping others push theirs (with consent). If he doesn’t enjoy it he won’t do it again. He definitely enjoys acts that are taboo or unconventional because he’s beyond such human notions at this point. Excitement is difficult to experience after 500 years. He’s not a thrill-seeker in general, but he does like novel and experimental sexual exploits.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Forever. I headcanon vampires as having a short refractory period and Armand is no exception. If he is turned on by his partner he is turned on and insatiable. He’s rarely pushy (though he can seem needy), but he will always be ready when they are. He is motivated by his partner’s pleasure so if he finishes first he will bound back quickly to satisfy them. It’s not a stretch to imagine him going all night with very little downtime if he paces himself. Can his partner handle it though?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Armand doesn’t own that many, but he enjoys using them when his partner does. He would happily use them on his partners if they wished, delighting in pleasing them. There is a shyness about him that might make him reluctant to have toys used on himself by a partner since that requires an amount of attention that can make him uncomfortable. He quickly relaxes and gets past this with the right partner/circumstance and can enjoy the occasional toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He isn’t a fan of physical teasing (like edging), but loves to flirt. Drawing out the pleasure for his partner or himself is fun for him, but rarely to the point of it being uncomfortable. All of his flirting is used to heighten what will happen later on, so teasing once that has begun doesn’t serve him. He wants his partner to feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Armand is very quiet. Sighs, moans, small groans are his love language. Whispering a command/consent or encouragement or his partner’s name in his silky voice is enough for him. He doesn’t need to be loud or overly vocal to let his partner know how he feels, but he can’t help but moan and praise. He’s not going to scream your name, but he will let you know when you’re being good for him or taking him so well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is obsessed with touch/physical affection as validation. He needs to be perceived as desirable and having his partners touch him in any affectionate way is crucial to him. (Even if that affection comes from D/s or CNC.) He needs affirmation that he's beautiful and wanted.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

See gif above. Also, he’s uncircumcised. He has a very proper and polite cock.* It’s as beautiful as he is. It’s not terribly long (maybe 6-6.5 inches/15-16.5 cm) but has a nice girth. Did I mention it’s beautiful? Fairly even in tone with a head the color of his fingertips. Let’s not neglect his balls, though. They are small-ish and tight, accentuating his overall length. Very prim and polite as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This completely depends on his partner and their moods. He can be insatiable to the point of neediness if he’s enamored with his partner. If they aren’t upset with him, his libido is genuine and turned up to 11. If they show the slightest bit of disapproval he has a tendency to use sex to manipulate them and gain their approval/affection.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As I mentioned in A, he will be energetic after if it was a fun, quick, light-hearted event. But if it was an intense scene or emotionally heavy, Armand will be drowsy and relaxed after providing/receiving the appropriate aftercare. Unless it was very close to dawn he probably wouldn’t get incredibly sleepy, but he would definitely be chill and calm after.

Note: yes, some of these headcanons/traits are a result of his trauma, if you feel compelled to point that out, go for it, but please don’t assume I wasn’t aware of which are poor coping mechanisms and maladaptive as I wrote them. I didn’t invent him, I’m just obsessed.

*Thank you Stephen King for that term. Polite, college boy cock is one of my favorite descriptions.

This is the alphabet template I used.

[mechaknight-98]

Bunny Girls Are the Best (NSFW) FT Hayoung and Choerry

Operator's Notes: @authorhjk1 here is my part of the deal, plus some other goodies

Netherland Dwarf Rabbit

Hayoung stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with her long, floppy ears and casting a worried glance at the soft cottontail poking out from under her dress. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her fingers worked at smoothing the fabric. It didn’t help—no matter what she did, her bunny features were impossible to hide. The nerves bubbled in her stomach, threatening to ruin the evening before it even began.

She let out a deep sigh, her eyes searching the reflection for reassurance, but finding none.

“Maybe I should just cancel…” she muttered under her breath, tugging her dress down fruitlessly attempting to cover her tail. “I mean, we could just stay in, right? No need to go out and… and have people staring.”

From the doorway, her boyfriend’s soft chuckle caught her off guard. “You’re not canceling on me, Hayoung.”

She turned to see him leaning casually against the frame, his eyes filled with a playful warmth. He pushed himself off and took a few steps closer, shaking his head with a knowing smile. “You always do this before we go out, you know? You worry so much about people noticing… and then what happens?”

Hayoung glanced away, her cheeks flushing as she toyed with the hem of her dress. “Nothing happens,” she mumbled. “But tonight feels different. I don’t know, maybe it’s just…”

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “You’re overthinking it again.” His voice was low, and gentle, as if each word was meant to soothe the tension in her.

“But… but my ears…” Hayoung trailed off, raising one hand to brush over them. “They’re so obvious. And my tail, too. What if people stare?”

“They won’t,” he reassured her, his hands squeezing her gently. “And even if they do, they’re just going to see how cute you are. I mean, who wouldn’t want to look at the prettiest bunny girl on the planet?”

Hayoung felt her face burn at the compliment, and though she rolled her eyes, she couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto her lips. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m saying what’s true,” he replied easily, turning her in his arms so they faced each other. His eyes softened as he cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You know I think you’re beautiful, right? Not despite the ears or tail. Because of them. They’re part of you, and I love that. It's like your cute nose or big eyes. They are a part of you and I love them regardless.”

Hayoung blinked, her throat tightening. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him—it’s just that she found it so hard to believe in herself sometimes. The world outside felt so judgmental, so unkind to people who didn’t fit the mold. But here, with him, it was different. He made her feel like being herself wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

“But what if I don’t look like other girls?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear—well, behind where her human ear would’ve been, anyway. “Good,” he said, voice firm. “Who wants to look like everyone else when you can look like you? You’re one of a kind, Hayoung.”

Her heart swelled at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest. She wasn’t sure how he always knew the right things to say, but he did. And as much as her anxieties wanted to drag her back into her shell, he made her want to be brave—just a little bit braver for him.

“Fine, fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice light as she playfully pushed him away. “You win. I’ll go out.”

“Of course, you will,” he said with a grin, grabbing his jacket from the chair. “Because you know I’m right.”

She gave him a look, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a wink, holding out his arm. “Ready?”

Hayoung hesitated for a split second, glancing back at the mirror one last time. Her ears twitched slightly, her tail stubbornly poked out no matter how she tried to position it—but her boyfriend’s words echoed in her mind. One of a kind.

She smiled to herself, turning away from the mirror and taking his arm. “Ready.”

.As Hayoung took his arm, a small smile played on her lips, a familiar warmth settling into her chest. It wasn’t always like this—so easy, so natural. She couldn’t help but remember the day they first met.

It was a rainy afternoon, the kind of gray, miserable weather that made people hurry from one place to another without stopping to notice anything around them. Hayoung was crouched under a bus stop, her ears tucked beneath a beanie and her tail hidden by the long coat she wore. She shifted awkwardly, hoping no one would get too close and notice the strange way she kept her back to the wall.

Her heart pounded in her chest as her phone buzzed in her hand—another text from her Saerom, apologizing for canceling their plans last minute. Hayoung’s ears twitched beneath her hat, her anxiety spiking. The idea of getting on a crowded bus alone, with everyone so close, made her want to shrink into herself. What if someone bumped into her and felt her tail? What if her beanie slipped off?

"Hey, you okay?"

The voice was warm but unfamiliar. Hayoung blinked, looking up from her phone to see a guy standing in front of her, umbrella in hand. His eyes were curious, not judgmental, but she stiffened all the same.

"I’m… fine," she muttered stiffly, immediately pulling her coat tighter around her body. She didn’t want to draw attention. She didn’t want anyone to notice anything strange about her.

"You sure? You look kinda… cornered." He tilted his head slightly, his voice careful, as if he didn’t want to scare her off. "If you need help, I can—"

"I’m fine!" she said, more forcefully this time, her cheeks flushing as she quickly looked away. She just wanted to disappear. Why was he bothering her? Couldn’t he tell she wasn’t in the mood to talk?

There was a pause, and Hayoung expected him to just walk away. But instead, he shifted his umbrella, offering it to her with a small smile.

"How about this," he said, his tone light and non-threatening. "I’ll just stand here with you. No pressure, no talking. It’s pouring out, so it’s better if we share the umbrella, right?"

Hayoung blinked, her eyes flitting between the umbrella and his face. He wasn’t insisting, wasn’t trying to make her feel uncomfortable. He just… stood there. Offering quiet company in the middle of a miserable day.

Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."

They stood together for a while in silence, the sound of rain pattering on the umbrella the only noise between them. She relaxed, if only a little. He wasn’t prying, wasn’t asking questions she didn’t want to answer. Instead, he gave her space, a kind of silent reassurance that everything was fine.

Minutes passed, and when her bus finally arrived, she found herself hesitating. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by the thought of being around someone.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the rain.

"Anytime," he replied with a smile. "Maybe I’ll see you around?"

She didn’t respond, but something in her chest fluttered. She boarded the bus, her heart still racing, but this time it wasn’t just out of fear. The young man was first and after paying he found an empty seat that an elderly couple was leaving. He quickly took his seat.

Hayoung was next to find her seat and her heart fluttered when the only open seat was next to the umbrella guy. The young man smiled and gestured for her to sit next to him. Hayoung hesitated but waddled shyly over to him. She sat down stiffly and the young man smiled,

"well isn't this a pleasant surprise," he said. Hayoung rolled her eyes as she began to feel comfortable around the young man.

"Do you ever shut up?" she teased the young man who smiled back at her.

"Oh, you wound me miss." the young man fired back, "Well if my presence is so intolerable I will listen to my music" As he spoke he put on his earbuds and started vibing to them. Curious and wanting to talk to him more, Hayoung reached out.

"Um can I listen?" she asked after tapping the young man's shoulder and he pulled out his earbud. He nodded and handed Hayoung an earbud. She shyly put the earbud in her ear and listened to his music.

She was surprised when it wasn't hip-hop but heavy metal, or something like it. The closest idea she could come up with was "Cowboy metalcore." (For those who would like an example look up The Ongoing Concept's song: Saloon Again) The young man noticed her cute bunny ear and didn't make a big deal of it. As they both rode to their locations Hayoung fell asleep comfortably on the young man's shoulder. He chuckled and let her rest until it was his stop.

"Excuse me miss, despite how cute you are I will need my shoulder back." the young man said. Hayoung who had been drooling on the young man's shoulder woke up and apologized repeatedly. The young man smiled and then said,

"Don't worry miss… um…"

Hayoung's eyes and courage widened in that moment, "Hayoung, and it was really nice to meet you too, would you like to go get coffee sometime?"

the young man tilted his head and said, "Are you asking me out?" Hayoung nodded and the young man smiled happily.

"Sure give me your phone," he said and Hayoung handed her phone over,

"Um unlocked preferably I need to enter my number is all."

Hayoung winced embarrassed and unlocked her phone before watching as the young man entered his phone number. Hayoung looked down and smiled. "Okay Danzo," she said as she looked up.

Back in the present, as they walked side by side, Hayoung glanced up at him. He had no idea how much that simple gesture on that rainy day meant to her back then.

“You remember when we met?” she asked, her voice soft as they strolled down the street.

“Of course,” he replied, turning to her with a grin. “How could I forget? You were all bundled up like you were trying to hide from the world. And now look at you. You’re still trying to hide, but you know I see you.”

She playfully elbowed him in the side. “I wasn’t hiding.”

“Sure you weren’t.” He chuckled. “But you don’t need to, you know. You never did.”

Hayoung smiled to herself, a quiet contentment settling over her. She didn’t know what it was that made him stop for her that day, but she was glad he did.

They got into their car and headed to the date spot. Hayoung's nerves only grew as they drove closer. Danzo noticed and his hand fell into hers.

"If it makes you feel any better Jeewon will be there."

"It doesn't," Hayoung said plainly.

Danzo looked at Hayoung confused, " Huh? Why not? She is also a bunny hybrid."

"But she's cute and sexy she has… the curves where I don't. I'm awkward." Hayoung said sad

"Hayo if you say one more mean thing about yourself tonight I will kiss you till you can't see straight. you are just as sexy cutie as Jeewon is trust me I should know." Danzo replied and Hayoung looked at her boyfriend surprised. She blushed and said,

"be careful with threats like that you might send me into a heat and I don't think you want that." Seeing her confidence rise up and smile Danzo says.

"You obviously don't know me well. I love when you're in heat but I'll let it slide this one time. Oh look we are here." Danzo said as they arrived at the banquet hall. Hayoung looked up at Danzo and squeaked.

"Please babe can we just go home and have a nice romantic candlelit dinner?" she asked.

"Nope, that is your gift for going through with this. I will be making your favorite carrot stew, Ribeye and pototatoes along with your favorite carrot cake." Hayoung dreamed wistfully as she heard Danzo speak and found the "courage" to make her way through the entrance.

As Danzo and Hayoung entered the elegant banquet hall, the warm light from chandeliers reflected off the polished floors, casting a soft glow over the room. The gentle buzz of conversation and clinking glasses created an inviting ambiance. Hayoung’s steps faltered slightly as she glanced around, her nerves visibly growing.

Danzo, noticing her unease, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this. Just remember, we’ve got that amazing stew and cake waiting for us later.”

Hayoung managed a small smile, her nerves still fluttering. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

They approached the reception area, where Jeewon and AJ were mingling with other guests. Jeewon’s confident stance and radiant smile stood out even amidst the crowd. Beside her, AJ, with his goat-like features and engaging demeanor, chatted animatedly with a guest.

Hayoung took a deep breath, squeezing Danzo’s hand for support. “Okay, here we go.”

As they neared the pair, Jeewon's eyes lit up. She waved enthusiastically, her bunny ears twitching with excitement. “Hayoung! Over here!”

Jeewon’s vibrant energy was infectious, but Hayoung’s shyness made her momentarily hesitate. She turned to Danzo, her voice a bit timid. “Danzo, this is Jeewon and her boyfriend AJ. Jeewon, AJ, this is Danzo.”

Jeewon extended a warm hand, her smile genuine and friendly. “It’s so great to finally meet you, Danzo! Hayoung’s told us a lot about you.”

Danzo shook Jeewon’s hand, his smile friendly and genuine. “Nice to meet you, Jeewon. Hayoung’s said a lot of great things about you two as well.”

AJ stepped forward, offering his hand with a welcoming grin. His horns curled gracefully around his head, adding to his charming presence. “And I’m AJ. It’s a pleasure to meet the man who managed to get Hayoung out of her shell.”

Danzo laughs and jokes, "You make her sound like a tortise hybrid and not a hare one,"

Hayoung blushed slightly at AJ’s comment, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth. “Well, Danzo’s been quite the supportive boyfriend. He even promised to cook my favorite stew later.”

Jeewon’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, Danzo’s cooking must be something special if it’s enough to get Hayoung here. She hates being in public when she doesn't have to. I’m looking forward to hearing all about it!”

Danzo chuckled. “It’s definitely worth it. But you all should tell me more about yourselves. Hayoung’s mentioned how confident you are, Jeewon, and I’m curious about how that’s influenced your journey.”

Jeewon grinned, her confidence apparent. “Oh, where do I start? Embracing who I am has definitely had its challenges (Don't even get me started on all of the stereotypes bunny girls face), but it’s also been incredibly rewarding. It’s all about finding comfort in yourself and not letting others define you.”

AJ nodded in agreement. “And it’s a lot easier when you have someone supportive by your side. Hayoung’s lucky to have you, Danzo.”

Hayoung’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. She glanced at Danzo, who gave her a reassuring smile. “I am really lucky,” she said softly.

As the evening continued, the group’s conversation flowed easily. Hayoung found comfort in Jeewon’s confident presence and AJ’s friendly demeanor. The initial nerves she had felt began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of ease and enjoyment.

Jeewon leaned closer to Hayoung, her voice filled with encouragement. “Just remember, Hayoung, the more you embrace who you are, the more you’ll shine. And you’ve got a great support system here.”

Hayoung’s heart swelled with gratitude. “Thanks, Jeewon. I’m really glad we’re all here together.”

Danzo, sensing the positive shift in Hayoung’s mood, whispered to her, “See? I knew it would be okay. And if you ever need a confidence boost, just look at how supportive your friends are.”

The banquet hall was alive with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter especially between the fast friends: Jeewon, Hayoung, AJ and Danzo. it's as if they have been friends for forever. A small stage at the far end of the room had been set up for entertainment, and soon, the spotlight was cast on Jeewon and Hayoung. The pair had just been encouraged by their friends to take the stage for a bit of fun, a suggestion that Hayoung had nervously agreed to but hoped would help her shake off her jitters.

As the music started, a familiar, upbeat song filled the room. Jeewon looked at Hayoung with a playful grin. “Ready?”

Hayoung nodded as he fluffy ears shot up straight as a defiant challenge to anyone hoping to stop her., trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. She took a deep breath as the first notes played, and Jeewon’s confident voice filled the air. Hayoung joined in, her voice a bit shaky at first but gaining strength as she harmonized with Jeewon.

The two sang in perfect sync, their voices blending beautifully. Hayoung’s nerves began to dissolve as she lost herself in the music. Her usual shyness was replaced by a vibrant energy, and for a moment, she truly shone. She moved with more confidence, her bunny ears flicking rhythmically with the beat, and her voice soared as she hit the high notes with grace. Danzo smiled as he watched. he loved watching Hayoung perform, how she gave her all to every performance and every bit of herself.

Jeewon beamed at her partner, clearly enjoying the performance. “You’re doing great, Hayoung!”

Hayoung’s face lit up with a radiant smile. She felt the joy of the music and the connection with Jeewon, completely absorbed in the duet. The crowd responded with cheers and applause, their appreciation filling the room. For a brief moment, Hayoung felt as if she was the center of the universe, her insecurities melting away.

However, as the final note lingered in the air, Hayoung’s eyes scanned the audience. She saw all the eyes on her—admiring, expectant, and perhaps even judgmental. The realization hit her like a wave, and her confidence wavered.

Her smile faltered, and she abruptly looked down, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The once buoyant energy vanished as she clammed up, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

Danzo, standing off to the side, noticed the change in Hayoung’s demeanor. He stepped forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently towards him. “You were amazing, you know that?”

Jeewon, quick to support her friend, placed a comforting hand on Hayoung’s back. “You were incredible up there, Hayoung. Don’t let the attention get to you. We’re all here cheering for you.”

Hayoung’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, but she managed a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks. I just… got a little overwhelmed.”

Danzo kissed her temple softly. “It’s okay. You did exactly what you needed to do—show everyone your beautiful voice. And for me, you’re always amazing, no matter what.”

Hayoung smiled happily as a familiar warmth filled her chest. She nestled close to Danzo.

"how did I get such a cute and kind boyfriend?" she wonders out loud.

"You looked scared on the bus," Danzo said as he kissed her again.

After the banquet Hayoung, and Danzo went home. Back at Danzo’s apartment, they sat together on the couch, laughing as they reminisced about their first date. Hayoung’s cheeks were flushed from the memory, while Danzo’s eyes sparkled with amusement. They sat on their little couch and reminisced about their first date along with meeting their would-be new friends.

“Honestly, I can’t believe we survived that night,” Hayoung said, shaking her head.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” Danzo teased, nudging her gently.

Hayoung shot him a look. “You’re kidding, right? First, we went to the wrong restaurant because you mixed up the addresses. Then it started raining—”

“—and we didn’t have an umbrella,” Danzo added, grinning. “Which led to us running down the street like mad, trying to find shelter.”

“We looked ridiculous!” Hayoung giggled. “And then… wasn’t there a point where we got stuck in a revolving door?”

Danzo laughed out loud. “Yeah! I thought we were never getting out of that thing. It was like we were cursed.”

“But the best part was when we ended up at that little café,” Hayoung smiled warmly, the fond memory returning. “Completely soaked, freezing, and both of us covered in chocolate from that bakery fight. That’s where we met ED.”

Danzo nodded. “Hyena hybrid bartender with the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard. He was the only one who didn’t stare at us like we were insane.”

“Of course not. He was too busy cracking jokes about how we looked like two drowned rabbits,” Hayoung said, rolling her eyes. “I thought you were going to punch him.”

“Nah, he was funny.” Danzo chuckled. “Plus, he bought us drinks. That made up for the jokes.”

“And Choerry,” Hayoung said softly, her expression brightening. “She was there too, working on some lyrics in the corner.”

Danzo nodded. “Yup, your fellow bunny hybrid. She saw us and came over to help with the napkins when you spilled coffee all over yourself.”

“She was so sweet like she knew exactly what I was feeling. We talked about her time in LOONA, and then when she joined ARTMS… It was like I found a kindred spirit in her that night,” Hayoung reminisced. “And now, she’s one of our best friends.”

Danzo wrapped an arm around Hayoung, pulling her close. “It was a mess of a first date, but I wouldn’t change a thing. It brought us ED, Choerry, and Mia our little goddaughter and the cutest bunny hyena Hybrid.”

“Yes that's true but it also brought me you much closer this time. I got to see your soft heart and adventurous eyes for the first time. When I was with you that night I had the feeling that…I would never be bored with you.” Hayoung whispered, looking up at him with a soft smile. Danzo narrowed his eyes as he looked at hayoung then kissed her forehead. it was a small innocent peck at first until Hayoung begged for more.

"Okay okay." Danzo said as he squished her cheeks before bringing her in for another cute kiss Hayoung's eyes narrow as she feel her heart heat up along with her core. she stares into Danzo's eyes and he sees her lust come in full force.

Hayoung began to grind on Danzo as her heat swelled within her. Danzo smirks and says, Babe we gotta be careful not to send you into heat." knowing she's well into one. Hayoung moans and says, fuck babe I just want to have a whole litter of babies with you. before lifting her shirt. he cute pink nipple breasts fill Danzo's vison as he takes one breast into his mouth. Hayoung moans in the throes of desire and passion before draggins Danzo to the bedroom, while she fully undresses when Danzo follows her he also begins to strip. when they arrive at their desire location both are completely nude and admiring each other's bodies.

Danzo is the first to make a move targeting Hayoung's haughty hefty breasts. He begins by sucking on her nipples slowly until her pretty pink nipples become tender and red from a few love bites here and there. Hayoung moans and runs her hands through her pinkish hair, before losiong her cool. she aligns herself with Danzo's cock before sliding down on it. Danzo moans into her ears as he carefully rubs them causing Hayoung to hiss and moan in pleasure.

"You like that babe?" Danzo asks Hayoung moans happily unable to voice her pleasure in any other way. Her walls clench around Danzo deliciously as she loses herself in the pleasure. she smiles breathlessly at her man as her heat takes her.

Feeling Hayoung tire Danzo lifts his hare hybrid girlfriend before pinning her to the bed.

"Eep!" Hayoung yells until Danzo rams his cock inside of her. Danzo feeling her tightness smiles at her. "I love you bunny, even if you don't love yourself." He says as he thrusts in and out of her before pulling her up by her pinkish hair. Hayoung moans in pleasured delirium. Hayoung moans before diggin her nails into Danzo and she says

"Oh trust me I know with how hard you're fucking me." she says.

Danzo chuckles as Hayoung accepts his love truly for the first time. Smiling Danzo goes back to nursing on her sensitive nipples Hayoung moans again, as he walls clench his manhood like a vice. she smiles watching him be rough with her until her orgasm hits her in a wave of surprise. she cums and squirts all over his cock and Danzo smiles like the dummy he is completely enamored with his girl. as her body calms down she moves to get between his legs, and wraps her tits around his rod. her adorable smile makes Danzo's heart swell as she massages his shaft with her beautiful breasts. as she does so Danzo clears her wonderful hair from around her breast so he can see her lovely face. In a haze of lust Hayoung smiles at Danzo and he smiles back. their warmth and love heating the room to dangerous tempatures until Danzo finally reaches his limit and bursts all over Hayoung's face. she screams with glee as his cum lands over her tits, face neck and chin.

"Well someone was really excited" she said

Holland Lop

Danzo and Hayoung were surprised to get a call from ED and Choerry one Saturday afternoon. Choerry’s playful voice came through the phone.

“Hey, can you two babysit Mia for a few hours? ED and I have some… plans,” she said with a mischievous giggle.

Danzo raised an eyebrow and glanced at Hayoung, who was already smiling knowingly. “Of course, we’d love to babysit our little goddaughter,” Hayoung answered for both of them.

“Perfect! We’ll drop her off in about… three hours,” ED chimed in, sounding distracted, probably busy with his usual antics.

Three hours? It didn’t seem like they needed that much time before dropping Mia off. Yet, about 15 minutes later, Danzo and Hayoung pulled up to ED and Choerry's place, greeted by the unmistakable sound of giggling and shuffling inside. They entered the house to see ED and Choerry caught up in one of their affectionate moments, arms wrapped tightly around each other, ED nuzzling her neck while Choerry laughed. Choerry who was 4 months into her getting their second child ready for the world showed all the telltale signs of pregnancy, baby bump, swollen ankles, and a surprisingly jolly attitude.

“Oh, hey, guys! You’re early,” Choerry grinned, slightly breathless, still pressed into ED’s side. She playfully swatted his chest, but he only hugged her tighter, his hyena-like grin widening. “We were just… saying goodbye.”

“Saying goodbye? Looks like you’re about to take a nap with how tangled up you two are,” Danzo teased, smirking. Hayoung giggled, nudging him with her elbow.

“Well, can you blame me?” ED said, pulling Choerry into a dramatic dip like they were in the middle of some romantic tango. “I mean, look at her.”

Choerry squeaked and blushed, swatting at him again, though her wide smile gave away how much she enjoyed his over-the-top affection. “ED! We have to go, remember?”

Just then, the pitter-patter of tiny feet echoed through the house. Mia, their adorable little girl, came rushing down the hallway, her bunny ears bouncing as she ran. “Uncle Dan! Auntie Han!” she shouted gleefully, launching herself into Danzo’s legs, her little arms barely wrapping around his knee.

Danzo bent down, scooping her up and tossing her gently into the air. “Hey there, champ! Have you been practicing your moves?”

Mia nodded enthusiastically, her bucktooth grin on full display as she launched into a wobbly little kata she’d learned from the Bruce Lee movie Danzo had shown her last time. Her tiny fists punched the air, and she ended with a dramatic pose, one foot awkwardly balancing in the air.

“Oh, she’s getting good,” Hayoung laughed, clapping for her performance. Danzo, always impressed by Mia’s commitment to her ‘training,’ beamed with pride.

“You keep practicing like that, and you’ll be ready for your first action movie, no problem,” Danzo said, lifting her up onto his shoulders where she wobbled with glee.

ED groaned with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “She’s been obsessed with martial arts ever since you two showed her that movie. Choerry's been waking up to karate chops to the face.”

“I swear, I have to dodge before breakfast,” Choerry added with a grin, though her affection for her daughter’s antics was clear.

Danzo chuckled, his broad shoulders barely moving as Mia squealed from her perch. “What can I say? It’s in her blood. She’s destined to be a master.”

ED crossed his arms, feigning seriousness, though his grin gave him away. “Listen, as long as she doesn’t break anything in the house, I’m fine with it. But please, for the love of all things peaceful, try not to show her any more Bruce Lee movies tonight.”

Danzo smirked. “No promises, boss.”

Choerry sighed, knowing full well they’d probably come home to Mia reenacting scenes from yet another action flick. “We’ll be out for about five hours,” she said, reluctantly detaching herself from ED’s embrace. “Make sure she eats, and… try to keep the martial arts mayhem to a minimum.”

Mia wiggled excitedly on Danzo’s shoulders, chanting “Karate! Karate!” as he walked her around the living room.

“We’ll take good care of her,” Hayoung said sweetly, trying to look responsible despite Mia’s obvious enthusiasm for another night of chaos.

“You guys are the best,” Choerry said, leaning in to give Hayoung a quick hug before turning to ED, who immediately pulled her back into another embrace. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll survive… maybe,” he said, overdramatically, as Choerry dissolved into giggles again.

Danzo rolled his eyes and whispered to Hayoung, “I swear, those two can’t keep their hands off each other.”

Hayoung chuckled. “At least Mia didn’t inherit the theatrics.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Danzo muttered as he held Mia securely on his shoulders, already thinking about the next martial arts movie they’d sneak into the night.

As ED and Choerry finally managed to peel themselves away, heading out for their evening, Danzo and Hayoung settled in for their babysitting adventure.

Choerry and ED arrived at the Love Hotel in record time. Excited to finally have some "alone time" with each other the lovey-dovey couple could barely keep their hands off of each other. they pay for their entry and then happily go into their room.

Once inside Choerry pounces on ED in a very unbunny way. she moans as she peppers his neck and collar with kisses, as she begins to grind on him. ED's hands trace her body as Choerry guides them while they kiss to her tits. she moans when his hands reached their desired destination but she has something more intimate in mind when she pulls him close.

"Suck on my tits baby," Choerry says as she moans into ED fuffilling her request. she begins to grind a little bit harder as her heat takes her on a ride. As she gives in to her instincts ED notice that her breasts begin to leak. ED dilligently drinks. Her milk is sweet and tastes has an almost nutty taste that ED loves. When he's had his fill he takes a break from drinking her milk and says, to Choerry, "Babe I need to fuck you." In Choerry's lusted over eyes he sees his lust reflected. Choerry nods and gets up, giving them space to manuver before getting on all fours on the bed.

"I know you like doggy so I figured we could have a little fun.

Ed laughs before plunging deep into her. Choerry moans as she feels his tip reach her cervix. as he nails her Choerry looks back at her man. she smiles as the usually funny and loopy hyena hybrid take his time and is gentle with her tonight. Careful of her baby bump he firmly grips her shoulders and ass before lightly giving her a few spanks.

"Oh a naughty boy." Choerry says eyes wide as Ed continues to take her from behind. Ed laughs before gripping her hips and getting a bit rougher and bolder. Choerry moans as she fills his cock dig inside of her cavern. as he goes deeper he reaches a spot Choerry didn't know about.

"OH fuck right there!" choerry yells as she feels him hitting that spot. As Ed massages that spot Choerry begins to go delirous from the pleasure as she begins to cum.

"OH fuck! I'm cumming!" she's yells as she cums all over his cock. Ed laughs as Choerry smiles but before he can finish up their alarm rings, and their time is up.

[evnseokz]

☆ taros hands

pairing: nerd crush! taro x f. reader

contents: mutual masterbation, reader kind of preys on shotaro, fingering, handjob, reader is obsessed with his hands, hand worship, praise kink, pet name: baby, kissing, making out, cum eating, finger sucking, lap sitting, size kink kind of

been thinking about his hands ever since he posted that pic above & i got really carried away w the plot in this one so it’s super long… enjoy!!! w.c. 3.4k

you and shotaro had been acquainted for a couple years now. you guys both went to the same high school, but now are in college. you guys didn’t talk or see each other during high school, but in college you have had a few classes together every semester so far. shotaro kept to himself mostly; he didn’t have many friends, but he liked it that way. you, on the other hand, weren’t what you’d consider popular, but you had a good-sized friend group of your own, and you talked to pretty much anyone in your classes. shotaro was one of the colleges top students; he made the best grades and had the best work ethic out of literally anyone else here. i guess he could be considered somewhat of a nerd, for lack of a better term.

now, you weren’t dumb, and you didn’t make bad grades, but they weren’t as good as shotaros. so you always found yourself sitting next to him in class and asking for help when you could. you tried not to pester him too much, but he never seemed to mind too much. throughout your time at college, you and shotaro became study buddies of some sort. you guys would often find yourselves at the library, or in either one of your dorm rooms. he was always patient with you and did his best to help you understand the material. he was really sweet, even helping comfort you the few times you’ve had a breakdown over the subject you struggled most in, math. “hey, it’s okay; not everyone gets it on the first try,” he’d say. and somehow you were always able to calm down shortly after. he just had such a calming aura that surrounded him. somehow always grounded, even in the most stressful situations.

you think it wasn’t long after that that you began to see him in a different light. you both were in the library studying, the window nearby shining rays of sun perfectly onto shotaros face. that day, you really looked at him and noticed how attractive he is. his skin is smooth and soft-looking; he’s got round cheeks, round eyes, and plump lips. his jawline being pretty well defined too. he was hot. and you were a fool for not realizing it sooner. ever since that day, you had tried your best to send signals to shotaro. you’d laugh a little more often at things he said or place lingering touches on his shoulder or arms. sometimes you even dressed extra prettily in hopes of getting some extra attention from him. yet he was completely clueless.

flash forward to today. you and shotaro had already agreed earlier in the day that you’d be meeting at his dorm this evening to study for your upcoming math test. you were currently in your own dorm, contemplating what you wanted to wear over there. you really didn’t need to change, but you were hoping that tonight would be the night something finally happens between you. you decided to go comfy yet cute, as you didn’t want to be uncomfortable while studying. so you slid on some comfy shorts that were just slightly too short and a cropped t-shirt that exposed your midriff slightly while also hanging off your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. you decided to just wear your slippers over there, as you knew you’d just take them off first thing anyway.

you grabbed everything you needed and put it in your bag. you headed out the door, locking it behind you, and made your way to shotaros dorm. luckily for you, the dorm was in the same building as yours, just on a different floor. once you made it to his door, you let out a deep breath before knocking. a few seconds go by before shotaro is opening up the door. you smile up at him, taking in his relaxed appearance. he wore a plain black shirt and sweatpants. his hair is slightly messy, like he might’ve gotten out of the shower not too long ago, and his glasses sit low on his nose. nothing special yet he still made it look so good. “hey y/n, come on in,” he smiles back at you. you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on your exposed collarbone for a split second, and it takes everything in you to not let your knees give out on you, his voice sounding deeper than usual. you make your way inside his dorm, slipping your shoes off at the doorway. “do you want anything to drink? i have water or soda?” he asks, “i’m okay, shotaro, thank you.” you reply.

you guys head over to the main part of the dorm, where his bed and desk are. he takes a seat at his desk, and you sit on the edge of his bed, closest to where the desk is; this way you can somewhat see what he’s doing as he helps you. he’s already got the textbook and some paper out on the desk, and you dig yours out of your backpack, placing it on your lap. “okay, let’s get started!” shotaro beams, he starts going through the material, and you’re trying your best to focus, but you just can’t. to shotaro, you probably just look like you’re listening and watching very intently what he’s showing you. but in reality, you were trailing your eyes up and down his figure; you start at his face and end up down at his hands. oh his hands. his hands were so big and veiny. his fingers were long and slender. you could only imagine what they’d feel like in- “y/n, hey, are you listening?” shotaros voice snaps you out of your thoughts. a slight blush creeps onto your cheeks. "y-yes! yes, i am,” you get out. “you have to pay attention; otherwise, you’re not going to learn,” he says sternly, and you can’t help but press your legs together slightly at the tone of his voice.

you nod and try to clear your thoughts to make room for the material he’s teaching you. you guys sit there for probably another thirty minutes or so before you start to get bored. “can we take a break, please?” you whine. shotaro rolls his eyes at you playfully, but obligues anyways. he moves his attention towards his computer and starts typing away on the keyboard, doing, god knows what. “what are you doing?” you ask him, trying to not let your attention fall to the way his fingers are quickly moving against the keys of the keyboard. “ah- i’ve been practicing computer coding recently, so i figured i’d work on it during our break.” he replies, somewhat sheepishly. you find him so adorable yet so hot at the same time.

you hop off the edge of his bed, stretching your limbs, before moving closer to where shotaros seated at his desk. “can i watch?” you say, trying to sound at least somewhat flirtatious, as you rest your hand on his shoulder. he turns his head to look up at you, cheeks turning red. “uh sure,” he quips back. you can tell he’s starting to get nervous. his arms are resting on the arms rests of the chair, his hands gripping the ends of them. and you take this opportunity to pull his chair back slightly, shuffling until you’re standing in front of him. you ruffle his hair a bit before turning around and taking a seat on his lap. as if on instinct, his legs spread slightly, giving you more room to sit, and he stiffens behind you. you grab the edge of the desk to scoot the both of you closer. you can tell shotaro has no idea what to do, his hands still gripping the armrests of the chair as his body stays completely rigid. you turn to look at him, and the poor boy is beat red in the face. you giggle slightly before grabbing his hands and returning them to their place on the keyboard. his arms are now caging you in, and you lean slightly more to one side; that way he can still view the computer properly. he begins to relax slightly, picking up his previous pace of tapping away at the keys in front of him. you let your eyes fall back to his hands, admiring the way they quickly move, veins flexing under his skin.

you bite your lip, “taro?” you question, and his ears perk up at the new nickname. “yeah, y/n?” he replies, “has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty hands?” shotaros cheeks heat up at your question, ears burning red. “n-no they haven't,” he stutters over his words, his nerves picking back up. you grab one of his hands in yours and play with his fingers slightly, interlacing yours with his, and then removing them. shotaros heart is racing at your actions. you move his hand around until it’s in a “high five” position, and you place your hand against his, comparing hand sizes. his hands are quite a bit bigger compared to yours, and it’s driving you insane (and shotaro too). “look at this taro; your hands are so big,” you say in awe. shotaro doesn’t say anything; he’s still frozen, just watching you play with his hands.

you bring his hand up to your mouth and place small kisses on his knuckles, then bring the other hand up to do the same. shotaro shudders at the feeling of your lips against his skin. “so pretty,” you mutter, taking one last good look at his hands before setting them back down. he doesn’t dare move them from where they are on the desk. you turn slightly in his lap, looking at his face. you wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs on the base of his head. his eyes close briefly at the feeling. “taro?” you say again. “y-yeah?” he replies, his voice shaking. “ive had enough math for one night; can you help me feel good instead?” you look at him with big doe eyes, and his face and ears get even redder. “i-i don’t k-know how,” he says, avoiding direct eye contact with you. “can i show you how?” you bring your hands down to his shoulders, rubbing them encouragingly. he finally brings his eyes up to meet yours and nods.

“if you do well, i can make you feel good too, y’know,” you smile at him. he merely nods again, this whole situation being confusing for him. “start with touching me, taro,” you coo. his hands are shaking as he brings them to rest on your exposed thighs. he stops there, too nervous to move any further. you sense this and grab his hands in yours, guiding them up and down your thighs a few times, and then up to your hips and waist, then you let go. taro continues to lightly caress your body, gathering the courage to move even further upwards to your chest. he looks away shyly as his hands make their way up under your shirt and go to cup your breasts. you sigh at the feeling. letting your head roll back as he kneed your mounds. “feels good, taro; you’re doing so good." you praise him, and it sends shocks straight to his already hardened cock. he slides his hands back down to rest on your hips. “w-what now?” he says breathlessly. you contemplate for a moment before standing up from his lap. shotaro whines quietly at the loss of your weight on him, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

you’re still facing away from him. you run your fingers along the waistband of your shorts before pulling them and your underwear down. shotaro watches your every move; his eyes are glued to your plump ass, lip going between his teeth as you settle back down into his lap. you move your legs around until they are spread wide enough for you to guide his hand down to your heat. shotaro hasn’t dared to look down at your sweet cunt yet. afraid he might cum just seeing it. your back is leaned against his chest, your head leaning back on his shoulder, one arm bent backwards to hold onto the back of his neck, the other holding his hand in yours. “c’mon, taro, look at me, baby; you’ve got me so wet,” you coo at him. his brain feels foggy; he’s yet to fully comprehend the situation at hand. he slowly brings his head down to look at your cunt, and you crane your neck up at him, placing a chaste kiss on his jaw. he gawks at the sight of your pretty, wet, puffy cunt and is in awe that it’s all for him. his cock strains in his jeans as he watches your every move. you move his hand down closer to your cunt, all the way until it’s pressed against your folds. you push down slightly on two of his fingers and drag them in between your folds, moaning at the sensation. you bring his fingers up further until you’re at your clit, and you move his hand in circular motions. you feel him start to get the hang of it, so you let go of his hand, taking this opportunity to hold onto the armrest. whines are spilling from your lips as shotaro continues to rub your clit, making sure to pay attention to areas right below that feel just as good. “feels so good, taro,” you moan, and shotaro swears he could cum from just hearing your voice say his name like that.

his fingers accidentally dip into your hole and jolt slightly, causing shotaro to retract his hand. “d-did i hurt you? are you o-okay?” he asks frantically. you giggle at his cute behavior. “no baby, i just wasn’t expecting it; go ahead and continue,” you reply. he brings his hand back down to your hole and begins to slip a finger in. you moan loudly at the contact. meanwhile shotaro is trying to rack his brain for any info he’s ever ingested about female pleasure. he moves his finger in and out of you slowly a few times before adding his second finger in. you cry out at the stretch. “f-fuck taro you’re already stretching me so good” you moan. shotaro smirks slightly to himself, proud that he’s giving you all this pleasure. his fingers speed up, and you can feel the knot in your stomach forming. “fuckkkk taro im so close,” you cry, and shotaro brings his thumb to circle your clit as he continues to finger-fuck you. your stomach tightens and your legs shake. you moan shotaros name as your orgasm crashes over you.

shotaro removes his fingers from your cunt, holding them in the air, not sure what to do as they’re covered in your juices. you grab his hand and guide his fingers to your mouth, sucking and licking them clean before removing them. you lick your lips clean and smile at him. you stand up, shotaro helping steady you as you wobble, still a bit weak from your orgasm. you turn to face him, this time climbing into his lap in a straddling position. you caress his cheek softly. “you did so well for me, i think you deserve something in return,” you coo. his hips jerk slightly in anticipation, and you chuckle at his eagerness. “can i kiss you?” he asks suddenly. his question catching you off guard, your cheeks heat up. you nod your head, and he wastes no time leaning in and capturing your lips against his. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close; he swears he could melt right then and there. you bite at his bottom lip, pulling slightly before letting go and breaking the kiss. shotaro whines, but that’s quickly replaced with a gasp as he feels your hands fiddling with the button to his pants. his chest is heaving up and down, and you unbutton his pants, reaching in to feel his clothed cock through his underwear. he winces at the feeling, already sensitive. you slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pull them down just enough for his cock to spring free. and fuck.  he wasn’t super long in length, but he had the thickness to make up for it. his cock was so pretty, you were practically drooling just looking at it. “y/nnnn stop staring... it’s embarrassing,” taro whines.

“taro your cock is so pretty,” you pout at him. his round cheeks are so red, you can’t resist as you lean in and pepper kisses all over them, pulling back with a smile. shotaro is smiling sheepishly, hands coming up to cover his face. you pull his hands away and place them on your still exposed thighs. “can i touch you now, taro?” you ask and he nods eagerly. you stare at his face for a moment, noticing the way his glasses are hanging on to the tip of his nose for dear life; he’s been so caught up in everything he didn’t even feel them slipping. you reach your hands up, fixing his glasses on his face, pushing them back to the bridge of his nose, where they belong. “that’s better,” you say with a smile.

your hands fall down to his lap, grabbing his cock gently and slowly pumping your fist up and down it once to test the waters. immediately a loud moan falls from his lips and his hips buck upwards into your hand unintentionally. he throws his head back when you continue your movements; you can tell he won’t last long. “i wish you could see how sexy you look right now,” you say. shotaro brings his head back forward and says, "m-me? sexy?” he manages to get out, eyes screwing shut afterwards as whimpers fall from his lips. “mhmm, everything you do is so sexy... your brain is sexy, your hands are sexy; you’re just perfect to me.” you finish your sentence by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. he kisses back eagerly, the praise you were just giving him only fueling the tension building up in his stomach. you pull away and trail kisses down his jaw and neck; he moans at the feeling. you take your free hand and run it under his shirt, feeling his abs flexing underneath you. you smirk to yourself, not quite being able to believe how built he feels under his clothing. “i-im close,” shotaro pulls you away from your thoughts. you climb off his lap carefully, getting on your knees in front of him, tongue out, the sight alone sending him over the edge. his hips buck messily into your fist as his cum shoots out onto your tongue. you pump him a few extra times, making sure to milk him for all he has before closing your mouth and swallowing his seed.

“oh m-my god,” taro says, his head thrown back in bliss. you scurry into the bathroom to get a damp towel, cleaning yourself real quick, and then come back to clean up any mess he made too. you pull your shorts back on, taro doing the same. and you climb back in his lap, straddling him, holding him close. his arms wrap around your waist, hugging you tightly. you pull back to look at him in the eyes. “you know i’ve liked you for awhile, taro,” you say, “w-what?!” shotaro exclaims.  “mhmm, i realized not that long ago how beautiful you truly are, inside and out, and smart too, of course,” you giggle. shotaro blushes at your words. “i-ive liked you since i first met you, y/n.” he trails off, and you can feel your jaw drop. “no way!” you hit his shoulder playfully, “why didn’t you say anything?” you ask.  “i always thought you were way out of my league,” he sighs, a slight frown appearing on his face. “never that taro… you’re so special to me.” you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, and he leans into your touch. you lean into kiss him again, and he immediately kisses back. shotaro is the first to pull away; both of your breathing labored due to lack of air.

“would you wanna explore our relationship further?” he asks.

“absolutely.”

.

.

.

[violettduchess]

A/N: I've been thinking a lot about shorter, little bite-sized bits of writing. I've seen them called drabbles or ficlets (I don't like either name tbh) but they are more manageable for me right now than longer fics.

I'll write them when I can and to keep them a bit organized, I'll group them together in a series I'm calling Moments in Time. Just short, little snapshots of different moments between characters, sometimes Reader and sometimes my OCs.

They may be fluffy or spicy or angsty or comfort or silly. Whatever strikes me!

Some will be based on requests still in my inbox, some will be just my own musings and things I want to write and maybe I'll take requests here and there when I can.

Anyway, thanks for reading all this. I appreciate you doing so💜Enough rambling: Here's the first one!

Keith x Reader

WC: 450

The rain pours down from weeping clouds, the kind that cover the entire sky, gray and heavy with unknown sorrows. You duck into the greenhouse, seeking shelter from the aquatic assault, your clothing heavy with water and sticking unpleasantly to your skin. The rain has plucked at your hair, freeing strands from your hair pins and curls them around its curious fingers. It leaves them framing your face, a flushed portrait of surprise and escape.

Catching your breath, you listen to the steady drumming sound that fills the usually quiet space of the greenhouse and breath in deeply. If the color green had a smell, this would be it. It’s petrichor and loam, it’s soft and sweet and earthy. The ground when it’s been tilled. The opening of rose blossoms. The blush of springtime, the kiss of summer, the waning sigh of autumn.

You don’t know he is in here too until he says your name. The consonants and vowels of it fill space between the raindrops, rumbling through the glass enclosure on the waves of his deep, sonorous voice.

Keith.

His eyes are brighter than lightning. They gleam gold, sharp and shiny as he takes in the sight of you. He misses nothing: the parting of your lips as your heartbeat quickens, the clenching of your fingers into the wet folds of your skirt, the tension in your shoulders when you find yourself alone with him.

The answering flash of desire in your own gaze.

He crosses the space, his long legs swallowing the distance between you greedily. This isn’t the gentle prince you’ve come to know. This is the other prince. The prince who is sharp-edged, dangerously beautiful and shockingly unapologetic. Fearless in the face of his own wants.

And now he wants you.

You’ve walked the line of yearning before with him but never crossed it. A brush of hands here, a knowing smile there. Always dancing along the precipice but never diving off into the dark unknown.

Not until now. Now when the world outside is raging, when rules are scattered in the unfettered wind and the rain is chanting:

Now.

Now.

Now.

Wordlessly, he pulls you into his arms and you yield willingly, anticipation surging through your veins in turbulent waves.

He kisses you.

He finally, finally kisses you and just like that, your life is forever divided into before and after. 

He kisses you and just like that, the world blurs. It’s washed away because there is nothing but the feel of his powerful hands on your waist, the exquisite taste of his mouth, the savory scent of him.

He kisses you and just like that you’re devoted. Obsessed. Captivated. You will crave him every moment you are apart and even more when you are together.

He kisses you, hungrily, greedily, with rapidly growing need. He sinks to the ground with you held possessively against him, lust and fervor rushing through you both, wild and unstoppable.

And just like that, you’re his.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia

@wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary

@namine-somebodies-nobody @whatever-fanfics @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia

@themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

@keithsandwich @mrlovesimps

[diminuel]

Angsty headcanon: even in the AU where they stay together 5ever and raise ASL together, I think prior to Luffy’s birth or very early on (way too young for Luffy to remember) Crocodile and Dragon have a REALLY nasty breakup. They get back together, less than a year apart, Crocodile moves on from it completely. Would tell you (or a therapist forcing it out of him) that the breakup was just the result of flared up and immature emotions — a man too young and immature to handle a benign, routine, conflict as gracefully as he should have. It shouldnt have been a big deal and he’s thankful Dragon was so patient with him about it.

Dragon never quite gets over it, like a bone that doesn’t heal quite right and creaks when it rains. He takes *full* responsibility for the fight. He can’t let go to that core of guilt (he can only build around it, proving to himself and others this fight won’t ever happen again.) because deep down Dragon knows Crocodile was *right* even if he had never meant to hurt his Wani he still *had* he had *failed* them *deeply* and it *haunts* him.

In a terrible, terrible, series of moments of less self awareness and self control and self accountability than Dragon holds himself to now he let his upbringing get the better of him, let himself be *too* comfortable, too prideful in his own masculinity and strength, and thank the *gods* Wani snapped him out of it, rightfully punished him for it in their absence. The love of his life’s manhood just starting to blossom and he had stomped on it again and again out of sheer *instinct*. Wani didn’t have the words for it. Didn’t know where this was coming from, other than it was a sign of gross disrespect. But Dragon knew immediately he was miming the way Garp had *always* treated him and it disgusts and terrifies him.

For the first time in years he is around a man who he knows could not *easily* kill him and his instinct was to assert his own dominance *and he didn’t even notice until it’s gotten so bad Wani is threatening to walk out of his life forever*

When Wani comes back he does take the opportunity to tease Dragon about it a little a la “you better not think im less of a man for birthing *your* child” and it always brings a deeply sincere apologetic side out of Dragon. (Wani missed his big marshmellow boyfriend too of course. The reminder he cares just helps the initial remaining soreness)

Ooooh. Thank you for feeding my need for angst.

I can see that happening. Dragon does have a side to him that is quite harsh, which we see a couple of times when he's interacting with other members of the RA, even Iva and Kuma.

It might just be that he initially struggles with Crocodile figuring out his sense of self and not taking a pretty straightforward path towards being a manly man. (Crocodile maybe wouldn't adopt some of the rather stupid ideas about masculinity that we sometimes see characters exhibit in One Piece.)

Maybe he's thinks he's helping him out by being rough and belittling because that's how he learnt it - with Garp's though love that is never gentle and also in the marines that might not have allowed for self-expression that defied certain expectations of manliness.

Maybe he's reacting to any small challenge to his authority rather negatively even though Crocodile has always been someone who would stick his fingers into the gaps of Dragon's persona and see how much he can push his boundaries. And that was okay before, but now he would just very much like to keep his boundaries intact, thank you. He is barely holding it together anyway!

Because maybe his attitude might also just be a sign of stress because Dragon doesn't quite know how to deal with juggling multiple roles. Especially fatherhood. It's very likely that he never expected that, that he's torn about it and maybe even thinks that they should let Garp handle it. And Crocodile pushes back. Even though they maybe initially agreed that it's the best choice for Crocodile ambitions and for Dragon's goals?

Hm hm hm, much to consider! ♥

But yes, I can totally see Crocodile fully moving on, with maybe some teasing. And Dragon just doesn't get over it properly because he feels so bad about it. ;w;

[yoondarin]

some jinx defensers are so ANNOYING, now i remember why i got sick of seeing arcane things for a while CAUSE SOMETIMES, ALMOST EVERYDAY, SOMEONE PISS ME OF

I saw a video edit on tiktok talking about vi traumas DIDNT EVEN PUT JINX IN A BAD PERSPECTIVE JUST SAID THAT HER SISTER CHANGED AFTER 7 YEARS THAT SHE WAS IN PRISON, and the first comment was 'NO BUT JINX...' FUCK JINX FOR ONCE SHE IS NOT THE ONLY TRAUMATIZED CARACTER IN THIS GODDAM SHOW

Today was talking about caitlyn wanting jinx head after exploding the council WHICH HER MOTHER WAS THERE VOTING FOR THE DAMN FREEDOM OF ZAAAAUN, and jinx defensers saying that is an absurd, that she was in the council anyway and the council never cared, SHE STILL CAIT'S MOM BESIDES EVERYTHING, IF SOMEONE KILLED YOUR MOTHER YOUD BE COOL? I DONT FUCKING THINK SO

I dont hate jinx, i have one or two problems with her that i cant do anything about cause is her caracter BUT I LIKE THE GIRL, BUT THESE PEOPLE DONT LET ME BREATHE AND MAKES SO MAAAD. Its all about they were just children until vi sees GRAPHICLY her whole familly die, until ekko gave up on jinx for his own sake. People just dont want to have a single deep thought, just see jinx trauma cause is in our face all the time VISUALY but when it comes to the destructive actions of vi for herself they dont see a thing

im tired and still 45 days to go until the season

[melkyt]

Aromantic experience I have been thinking about in a purely fictional sense, dialing up them dynamics

Luffy choses Law, he takes an effort and works to show his love in every moment, every gesture as he never experienced 'love' in a way that Sanji or Robin would describe it, he cares for Law, wants him to be happy, healthy and never leave, its almost an obsessive desire but love? He doesn't know. It doesnt feel that different then the effort he puts in to loving his friends but its different because Law loves him in a romantic sense, and Luffy does not mind, even wants to feel that way with Law even if sometimes he doesn't get it when people talk what love feels like to them

He likes whatever he does have with Law.

So here comes the angst.

There is a devil fruit user, sleeping beauty style that can make people fall into a deep sleep. That only a 'loves kiss' would wake them.

Luffy tries, he doesnt hesitate to kiss Law after he finds him, sleeping as if nothing ever went wrong, so peaceful, beautiful the way the light of the moon shines over damp hair.

Yet, it doesn't work. Luffy's love does not fit the rules of magic, not in how the devil fruit owner, who defines love, sees it. So it doesn't work

Luffy going on a rampage, determined to beat the shit out of the one who did this. If the cure or whatever doesnt work he will beat on the bastard until it does. They are weak, but they make skin contact and pull him into the dream world where they gave Law a deal

Luffy is not about listen to them, and tries to activate Haki but he is away from his body and it doesn't quite work. It will take him time to think different.

The DF owner threatens to kill Law if he doesn't stop. Who is faster? Luffy in breaking out of the dream or them killing Law.

Luffy stops, and they propose a deal. One where Luffy swaps places with Law, falls asleep and tests the theory if anyone loves him in a way that the DF user defines love, a black and white view that maybe nobody would fit, even those who understand the fluttering all encompassing emotion that love brings.

Luffy agrees, even if nobody loves him in that way, it doesnt matter. He will break out on force of will. There are people who care for him and trying to prove or define it in anyway is stupid, people are different and they all feel different things. The DF user has no fcking clue what it means to care or love!

So he says yes.

Falling into a deep sleep.

Law waking up to find debris all around them, broken trees, torn up ground and Luffy's unconcious body, his skin ashen. Law who has his own doubts about being loved holding him close, not sure what to do. Knowing that if Luffy does not wake up from his kiss will break a part of him. He thinks he feels for Luffy but what if that is a lie his brain conjured up because it is attracted to the sun?

He squeezes his eyes shut. Trying to focus his thoughts. He opens them again to study Luffy's face, he would call him an idiot and to just kiss him. So Law does, and Luffy stirs, with a bright grin. Content in the knowledge that Law loves him, and maybe their relationship is different from others, he will fight for the man he chose to love.

[betweenstorms]

Simon Riley was not a man of many words.

His silences were deeper than them, more telling than anything he might have spoken, and in the daylight, they suited him perfectly. He wore quiet the way others wore their skin, natural and seamless, woven into his very being. But at night, something shifted in the dark, as if the silence became too much even for him to bear.

It began one evening, with the world teetering on the edge of sleep, the air thick and drowsy, suspended in the quiet between breaths. His rough voice cut through the stillness, a deep murmur that slipped through the dark like a careless whisper carried on the wind—so soft, so low, you almost wondered if it was just a dream.

“You make everythin’ easier.”

It was a quiet confession, a thought that slipped from him unbidden, breaching the surface of his entire being, hanging in the air like a thin thread between you. You stirred, but held your breath, allowing his words to drift into the stillness—delicate, almost too fragile to touch. He wasn’t seeking a response from you anyway. His words weren’t meant for conversation, they were fragments of himself, pieces he only let fall in the dark, when the night was soft enough to hold his vulnerability without breaking it.

It became a sacred ritual, born from the shadows—his voice, low and rough like the scrape of gravel, rising only when the night wrapped itself around you both. He spoke of things that could never survive the light of day, shards of himself he’d long buried. 

He would tell you about the boy he once was, trapped in a home where silence had screamed louder than any argument. His mother wore her bruises like secrets, shadows beneath her skin that she never let anyone see. His father’s eyes held a fury so deep and lethal it felt ancient, a rage Simon knew he had been born with, something passed down like a curse etched into his pathetic bones.

And then, sometimes, the words shifted, softening as they turned toward you. It wasn’t often, but in those slipping moments, Simon would tell you about the way you made him feel, like you were the one constant in a world that had always been fractured and shifting.

“Don’t know why you stay, love,” he murmured one night, his hand brushing your cheek as if to tether himself to you. “But I’m fuckin’ glad you do.”

In the morning, it was as if the night had erased his words.

As the first light crept through the window, Simon would rise without a trace of the man who had spoken to you in the shadows. The mask slipped back into place as naturally as breathing, and with it, the stoic quiet returned. His hazel eyes would be distant again, guarded, as if the softness of the night had never touched him.

But you carried his words with you, like tokens of something sacred, tucking them away in the quiet places of your heart.

And that, in itself, was a kind of love he didn’t need to speak aloud. It was in the way he lingered a little longer in the mornings, the brief touch of his hand brushing against yours as if seeking an anchor before the day swept him away. It was in the way he would glance at you, a softening in his eyes that no one else would notice but you. And you understood that love, for him, was in the silence and the darkness, in the way he allowed himself to rest beside you.

Because for Simon Riley, this was love.

[cerise-on-top]

Hii, how are you? I hope you're fine, can you do pleasseee write how Nikolai, Price and Laswell how react to a reader that dream to be a housewife, someone that just love tô cook and take care of the house. Love youu.

Hello there! I'm fine, thank you! And sure I can!

Price, Laswell and Nikolai with a Housespouse!Reader

Price: I think he’d try to tell you to pursue at least some kind of job. But deep down, he actually would kind of enjoy that, as much as he hates the fact he would. On the one hand, he’s well aware that it’s not that unlikely for him to die on the battlefield and you won’t be able to live off of his earnings forever, so he wants you to have a good education and a well paying job. But on the other hand, he does like the sound of having a housespouse. Just someone sweet and loving to come home to, who will take care of his home, who will cook for him, and who will even do his laundry. Just someone he can spoil and love. He also kind of likes the fact that you’d be somewhat dependent on him, it sort of boosts his ego. But in the end, I feel as though his rational side would win and he would try to get you to get a well-paying job. If you’re still up for it, you can always cook a little bit after work, but he will absolutely not reprimand you for not wanting to either after an eight hour shift. In fact, when he’s home and had some good shut eye, he probably would love to help you out a little with all those chores. He’s an acts of service kind of person. Plus if he really were to pass before you, he wants you to be able to take care of yourself as well. Money wise, I mean. He does kinda hope you’ll miss him at least somewhat after his passing, though.

Laswell: Oh, absolutely not. Not saying that I write for fem!readers, but if you are a woman, then there’s absolutely no chance you’ll be a housewife for her. She loves you, and women did fight quite a while to not have to be housewives for the rest of their lives. No, you’ll get a good education and get a well paying job. Or at least a job that you’ll enjoy. If your thing is crocheting, you’re really good at it and you make ends meet by selling your stuff, though, then that’s fine by her as well, though. But she wants you to have at least some form of stable income. I know it’s not alright for her to think something of that sort, and she is well aware of that, but if you’re more of a gender neutral kind of person, or even a masc one, then she doesn’t mind it as much. Of course, she’d much rather you have a good job that pays your bills, even when she’s not around anymore, but she doesn’t see it as such a big problem if you’re not a woman. I don’t think she’d enjoy it too much, though. In fact, you’ll always have her “meddling” with your work in that she’ll actively do what she can to help you out with chores. Laswell is not a very touchy person, so she shows affection through gift giving and acts of service. And yes, she will absolutely sulk if you don’t let her help you. In fact, she’ll sometimes send you out to buy some groceries, only for her to do some chores that you would have done otherwise. No, you will not be overworking yourself as long as she’s around.

Nikolai: As much as I hate to say it, I do believe he’d actually enjoy having a housespouse as a partner. Nikolai is cocky enough to believe that he’ll actually die of old age instead of on the battlefield. I mean, he is on a good path there, not everyone could go into the military field and make it to 48, but still. He’d actually just love to have someone to come home to, who he can spoil, who will love him despite all the atrocities he commits on the daily. Besides, even if he were to die, he has enough money to actually keep you fed until the day you die, unless you’re bad with money. But that has nothing to do with him. I don’t think he’d actually try to convince you to become a housespouse, but you seem eager enough for it anyway. Still, if you ever grow tired of it and want to change your mind, then he’ll pay for your education. He can get you in just about anywhere too. But he’d love to not have to worry too much about doing chores and stuff when he’s home. Though I do believe he’d still want to cook because his food is heavenly and he knows that. It’s his pride and joy. Though, he would love to buy you just about anything you could ever want or need. Loves coming home to a kiss from you and a good meal on the table when he’s too tired to cook. You’ll absolutely never miss anything at all with him. So yes, he’d definitely love you even more if you wanted to be a housespouse for him.