#and trying to memorize their shapes

[canisalbus]

Where and how did you learn to draw bodies both feral and anthro so beautifully detailed and soft? I love all the lines you add that act as muscle and wrinkles.

This isn't going to be a very helpful answer but I think anatomy might just be one of those things I've been autistically obsessed with since I was very little. Bodies have such good shapes, they're very satisfying to draw and I want to do them justice.

I've taken a couple of life drawing classes over the years and they've certainly helped (especially when it comes to figuring out dynamic poses, perspective and line of action), but I think for me the bulk of it has been just looking at living things really intently and trying to mentally pull them apart like a ball jointed doll so that I have, like, a 3D model of them in my brain that I can rotate around and pose.

Mammals are pretty meaty and flexible, we have a lot of soft tissue, and it's always fun to try to convey that feeling of fleshiness when drawing. The different layers of the body (skin, fat, muscle and bone, mostly) all interact with each other in interesting ways and different poses accentuate different aspects of them. Managing to capture small nuances like where your skin wrinkles when you move your joints, where you accumulate fat that creates softer and rounder shapes, and where your bones are closest to the surface, can really make your drawings seem more alive and organic.

[tartaruga-cosmica]

kerry study sheet (I evidently got distracted by doodles)

[mars-ipan]

several ppl now have told me they have no clue how to draw marzi…. should i make a tutorial

[missionel]

it's kinda funny to me how punch out of all things has probably had the most welcoming fandom on tumblr (not in general but for me personally). out of everything out there, i didn't expect the game where a high schooler beats up adult men that could (and sometimes try to) kill him to havea fandom i felt so comfortable posting in, but here i am 😳 not trying to make a sappy post or anything, just an observation i had

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Crimson Crown

sapphic high fantasy

in a world where witchcraft is outlawed by the king, a young witch from a coven masquerading as a convent is struggling to come into her powers, and live up to her mother’s expectations after her older sister died

when she discovers a way she could possibly bring her sister back, and prove herself to her mother, she travels to the palace and quickly gets caught up in politics, along with the ex she hasn’t seen in years, who has her own agenda

snow white reimagining, villain origin story

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[oreo-creampies]

𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Daddy/mama/brat etc…., overstimulation, breeding/creampie, riding, wall sex, full Nelson, mirror sex, praise/degradation, some mind break/dumbification, mention of a belly bulge (from satoru’s cum and cock), begging, possessive, size kink, squirting, knife play (no blood or cutting)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 my pussy ✨

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Lining Kento up with your sensitive wet little hole. Losing your mind over how thick he is. Too big for your fingers to touch. “My hungry little cock sleeve missed me this much? Barely letting me take my clothes off before your licking the sweat off my cock and trying to take me in your soaking wet cunt.” Messaging your cheeks with his large rough warm hand. Holding your hip, slowly swiping his thumb in small circles.

You can’t get enough of how it feels to be touched by Kento Nanami. His touch is firm, gentle, warm, comforting and exhilarating. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you non stop daddy!” The pinch in his brow smoothes, a lazy smirk tugging on his slips.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, his thick fingers sinking in your hip’s squishy crease. Kento roughly sliding you down on his fat, veiny cock. “Who am I?” Roughly smacking your ass, once, twice, your cunt clenching on the third.

Firmly grabbing your hips, guiding your tight hot cunt on his cock. Sliding your hand down his rock hard, cheilsted chest. Sinking your nails into his abs when he flexes, the lines deepening. “Tell me or I'm stopping, who’s fucking your tight cunt into a sloppy mess?”

You whine, “Daaaadddy isss! Daddy’s fat cock is stretching my cunt out, reaching so deep. I can feel your veins pulse, the shape of your head, nnnn you’re so deep! Right there daddy please keep bouncing me on your cock! You’re so strong!” Wrapping your arms around Kento when he stands.

Softly tugging on his soft blond hair, scratching his freckled backside. “You’ve been such a beautiful house wife, it due time I make you a mama.” Your cunt throbs, fluttering around him at the thought.

Needing one arm to hold you up, he wraps grabs a handful of your hair. Pulling your head back, looking up into his beautiful face, relaxed in pussy drunken bliss. He croon, “Am I your big strong daddy? Does my beautiful mama love it when I fuck her like a slut?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

You’re helpless in his firm grasp, your legs pinned by your sides by his muscular arms. Toji’s large hands are clasped behind your head forcing you to look into the vanity mirror. “Look at ya sloppy little cunt, it was so small now it's taking my monster cock like it’s made for it.”

His cock always looks too big to fit, yet your soft squishy cunt takes him perfectly every time. You’re split open in a perfect circle, your puffy lips dragging along his cock when he pulls out. His heavy balls bouncing with each thrusts memorizing.

He gruffily demands, “Who’s slut are are you?” Your cunt flutters around his cock, spasming, gushing thick cum. Squirting all over his bed, some of your slick trickling down soaking his cum filled balls.

His cock head hitting your already aching bruised cervix threatening to do deeper. Could he? Loudly moaning, “Daddy’s! I'm daddy’s slut! Please! Please cum!” He groans, his fat cock’s veins throbbing.

He glides his cock out, “Fuck! Ya daddy’s little slut huh? Keep talkin’ like that and ya gonna make me cum too quickly. N’ after I made sure to jerk off with your panties so I can last longer in your lil super soaker.” Effortlessly sitting up, easing you out of the full Nelson. Holding you up, lining his cock up, gliding himself into your soft, squishy cunt.

Curling your toes, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping. “Too much! Please don't stop wanna be a good girl for Daddy! Please! Cum! Daddy! Please! Cum daaaaadddy!” Attempting to wiggle off Toji’s thick cock, your attempts are a pathetic shifting of your hips.

Toji stands up, fucking his thick, veiny cock into you harder. “Damanding little brat, after I cum I’m taping a vibator to your clit so I can smoke n’ have a drink watchin’ you whine and cum till your lil cunt breaks.” Tightening his grasp on your thigh, grabbing your hair holding your head still.

“Watch daddy fuck his cunt into a gapping cum filled mess.” He groans, looking handsome balls deep in your cunt. His thick arms, broad chest, and muscular thighs, Toji is a massive beautiful man having his way with your cunt.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Tightening his grasp on your neck, pinning your thigh to the wall. Your other leg hooked around Satoru’s waist. “Dont even need to listen to you beg, your cunt is doing it for you. Hear how wet she is? Your little cunt keeps on cumming, soaking n’ gripping my cock.” Your cunt loudly squelches when he glides his long veiny cock in.

“Seems like no matter how much I cum my cock is keeping getting hard again. It’s all your fault. Sending me those sexy pictures and videos of you playing with yourself making my cock and balls ache.” Some of his thick cum is dripping out, your stomach’s bulge grows when he stuffs you with his cock.

Loosening his firm grasp on your neck, grabbing your other thigh. Pinning it and leaning back looking down watching slowly his thrusts down. He croons, “Aw I filled my your little cunt is too full of my cum, it's all dripping out no matter much I fucked it deeper!” He groans, it’s breathy ending in a needy whine.

Barely catching your breath, whimpering “Daddy please! I can't cum anymore!” Rapidly picking up speed with each hard thrust, till he’s moving faster than than the machine he’s gotten to watch you get fucked with.

Leaning in close, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back. His messy white hair falling into his beautiful sky blue eyes you swear have clouds in them. “Oh you can't? That’s too bad my poor little princess will have to keep taking Daddy’s cock in her broken little cunt anyway.” Roughly kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting of sweets and your cunt.

Biting your lip, stopping when you cry, your cunt clenching his sensitive cock. You can feel his veins throbbings, he’s close but that doesn't mean he’s done. Tilting his head back, his beautiful neck covered in lipstick and red hickies he won’t cover.

His jaw drops, he drops his head, pressing his forehead to your’s. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! You’re getting so tight! Mmmm you’re daddy’s little slut, my beautiful whore. Tell me who I am when I’m fucking your cunt into a sloppy mess.” Leaning back, stroking your clit with his thumb.

“You’re my-my! Nnnn!” You’re too cock drunk to get the words out. Whining, your cunt spamsing the intensity of your sore, sensitive cunt cumming for an unknownth time too much for you.

Satoru croons, “My my what? You said it? Whined it so beautifully it almost made me cum. You’re so fucking adorable, sexy, beautiful and needy, who else better to make me a daddy?”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Holding a knife to your neck, fucking your your sloppy cunt like he hates you. Suguru’s harsh, quick thrust too intense for your poor sensitive cunt to take. Closing your eyes, “Daaaady nnnn you feelsooogood! You’re cock! Nnnnn you’re!! Ahh!! Daddy!!” He fucks you harder with every word you utter till you’re a whimpering mess.

Dragging the sharp knife’s tip down your neck, between your breasts. Slowly sliding it closer towards your nipple, grabbing your jaw. “I need you to look your daddy in the eyes beautiful, it gets me off seeing the sexy look on your pretty face when you cum, let me see you cum for the tenth time.” You’re so close.

His pierced tongue, his thick fingers and his beautiful fat cock have spoiled you. Swiping the cool knife over your sensitive nipple. “Ahhhnnn dadddy.” You can feel the strong vibrations of your butt plug in your cunt.

His thick, being cock stroking all the right spots. “Squirt on Daddy’s cock.” Gushing on Suguru’s thick cock, soaking his balls hitting your ass. Slick trickling down to the toy pulsing in your other hole. He relentlessly, fucking you through your intense high.

Your mind shattering, eyes rolling back. Suguru groans, “That’s it! Good lil’ cock slut!” His smirking, groaning he knows how beautiful he is.

Holding his long, luscious hair back, thick longs framing his beautiful, angular face. A hungry, cocky smirk on his parted lips, the pink flush of his cheeks. And the loving passion in his warm honey brown eyes.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, stopping your pitiful attempt to run away from Suguru’s cock. “Where you going? Daddy isn't done with you yet, you got me hard for another round now ya gotta be a good girl n’ take it.” Setting the knife aside, grabbing your hair leaning down.

He’s too tall forcing you to look up. Using his weight and his firm grasp on your hip to keep you pinned beneath him. Legs spread for him to beat up your sloppy cunt with his hard cock. You can't believe he is all your’s.

“Nnn I can take it, wanna take daddy’s fat cock, wanna be filled with your warm cum. Please daddy, you didn't fill me up last time. N’ I've been good! Wanna! Wanna feel you cum, please!” Letting his hair go, swiping it to one side to make a thick curtain.

“That’s why you’re daddy’s good girl huh? Nnnnfuckmamafuck tell me who’s gonna make a beautiful mama.” His thick veins pulsing he’s so close.

[myntrose]

10:49 pm - domestic moments (nighttime routine) w/caleb

I just know that a nighttime routine with Caleb isn't as simple as getting ready for bed and going to sleep.

No, because getting ready for bed with him is really hard, because he just has to be within your personal space at all times.

brushing your teeth? He's got his arms around your body from behind you, burrowing his face in your neck. applying some skin care? Well, looks like he needs your help putting some on his face too! If you try and leave the room, best know he'll be right behind following you.

Caleb leans against the bathroom counter, a whopping 2 feet away from you. He watches as you wash your face, cleaning off the soap that lingers on. Before you have the chance to, he already has a small towel in hand, wiping the water off from your face.

"Hey, I can do that myself, you know". He knows, but he doesn't acknowledge what you just said, and murmurs about how you missed a spot of soap near your hair. Caleb runs the towel under some water, before washing away the remaining soap on your face.

You're not done there. When changing into your pajamas, he won't miss the chance to ask for if you need help. If you say yes, he'll help you slip into your night wear (that he bought for you, because he wants the best and comfiest pj's for his pipsqueak). If you say no, he'll put on the biggest pout you've ever seen, but comply nonetheless and look away as you change. But the moment you're fully dressed? Yeah, he's pulling you into a bear hug now.

Measuring at 188 cm/6'2 ft, it's no doubt that Caleb is huge. He's built like a machine too (not just his mechanic arm but you get it). He runs on the warmer side, which is wonderful during the cooler winter season. He knows how uncomfortable the extra heat can get when it's warmer out, but he just has to hold you close while sleeping. Ceiling fan on, extra fans in the room, dropping the temp, you name it. If it gets you to cuddle against him, he'll do it.

Even when you both are resting comfortably in bed, your nighttime routine isn't over just yet. Caleb likes to have you either little spoon or be right on top of him. Either way, he has a habit of running his hands down your back, drawing small shapes that ultimately makes you succumb to sleep even faster.

He loves to scan your features, memorizing everything he can about you. The number of lashes on each eye, the way you skin feels against him, every mark and mole and scar you have on your body, he burns into his brain because to him, you are a work of art.

He's no stranger to loosing you. He never wants that to happen again. So, even when it's the depths of night, and you're fast asleep, Caleb whispers small affirmations of love to both you and the universe.

"I'll protect you. Always"

"Thank you, for being with me"

"I love you"

And when the time comes that you're both asleep, you can count on all this repeating against the next night.

But neither of you would have it any other way.

@myntrose 2025 on tumblr - do not copy or translate

[ahqkas]

you’re not sure how you ended up here—in DICK GRAYSON’S bed, with his hands on your waist, and the weight of his body leaning just enough against yours to make your pulse race. it had started with a quiet moment, a teasing comment, and then a look that lingered a little too long. one thing led to another, and now you’re tangled up with him, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his lips moving against yours.

his bed smells like him ( faintly like clean linen, with a hint of whatever cologne he uses, something warm and grounding ). the scent wraps around you, mixing with the heat of his skin and the way his breath hitches when you tug him closer. his hands trail up your sides, calloused fingertips brushing over fabric and skin as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, the sound soft and involuntary, and you feel him smile against you. “what?” he murmurs, voice low and husky, the kind of tone that sends shivers down the valley of your spine. his lips barely leave yours as he speaks, like he can’t stand the distance even for a second.

“nothing,” you manage but the way your voice wavers betrays you.

“liar,” he breathes out, his lips tugging into a smirk and pressing against the curve of your jaw as he moves lower, leaving a trail of warm, slow kisses down your neck. his hands slide up up cradle your face for a moment, tilting your head so he can reach a spot just beneath your ear that has you clinging to him.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, tugging lightly as if to pull him closer. he shifts, the mattress dipping under the added weight and his knee brushes yours, caging you in but never making you feel trapped. his touch is firm but careful. he’s holding back, letting you guide how far things go.

when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes are dark with something between want and adoration. “you’re gonna kill me there,” he whispers and his thumb brushes against the apple of your cheek in a such tender movement it makes your heart ache.

[sweeethrt]

shower sex with chris ꣑��� ݁ ﹕ blurb.

the shower is too hot, steam thick in the air, making it hard to breathe, but that’s not why your chest is heaving. it’s the way chris has you bent over against the fogged-up glass, one hand gripping your hip, the other tangled in your wet hair, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“stay fuckin’ still,” he mutters, voice rough, right against your ear. the deep pull of his thrusts has your body jerking forward with each snap of his hips, your palms slipping against the glass, but you can’t find it in yourself to listen. not when he’s fucking you like this, deep, deliberate, like he’s trying to ruin you.

“i— i can’t,” you whimper, fingers pressing into the glass, your legs shaking. “chris, holy shit—”

“yeah?” his tone is sharp, teasing, and he tugs your hair harder, forcing your back to arch, making you feel him even deeper. “can’t take it, baby? thought you wanted me to fuck you like this.”

your moan is broken, muffled against the glass as his pace gets rougher, relentless. the sound of skin slapping echoes through the shower, water running down both of your bodies in hot rivulets. his grip on your waist tightens, like he’s holding himself back from absolutely wrecking you.

“chris, please, fuck, you’re—” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he drives into you harder, your whole body trembling.

“finish that sentence,” he rasps, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck. “i’m what?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, head spinning. “so fucking deep, i can’t—shit, can’t even think—”

chris chuckles darkly, chest pressing against your back as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “you don’t gotta think, baby. just take it.”

a sharp slap lands on your ass, and you gasp, pressing harder into the glass, needing something to ground yourself. the way he’s fucking you is overwhelming, rough, controlled, making sure you feel every inch of him. your body is on fire, overstimulated from the way his hips roll into yours, the way his fingers dig into your skin like he never wants to let go.

your words cut off again into a sharp cry as his hand slips between your thighs, his fingers pressing against your clit, rubbing tight circles.

“that’s it,” he mutters, his voice low, strained, like he’s barely holding on himself. “cum for me, baby, let me feel you.”

it crashes into you hard, a wave of pleasure that has your legs buckling, your body clenching around him as a strangled moan rips from your throat. chris groans, his thrusts turning erratic as he follows right after, burying himself deep inside you with a sharp, broken “fuck.”

for a moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, the sound of water hitting tile filling the space. then his grip on your hair loosens, his palm smoothing down your back, a quiet, unspoken “you good?” before he slowly pulls out.

you shudder at the loss, still catching your breath, and before you can straighten up, he’s turning you around, his hands gentle now as they slide over your slick skin. his lips brush against your forehead, a silent contrast to how rough he was just seconds ago.

“relax,” he murmurs, reaching for the loofah, his fingers grazing over your stomach as he lathers soap onto your skin. “lemme take care of you.”

his touch is slower now, careful, his fingertips tracing soft circles along your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you all over again. you let out a breathy laugh, still dizzy, and rest your forehead against his chest.

“you act all tough,” you mumble, voice hoarse, “but you’re so nice after you fuck me.”

chris scoffs, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze, blue eyes still heavy-lidded, hazy with the last traces of lust. “yeah, ‘cause you let me do whatever i want to you,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your lips. “least i can do is wash your hair after.”

[misaerabl]

BURNING POINT

firefighter vi x medic reader

CW: sex in a firehouse, slightly injured vi i guess, semi-public?, fingering, you fuck twice, sex in a firetruck, grinding, strap on sex, referring to strap on as cock, not proofread, pure smut again (insert apologies here)

The fire had been out for hours, but the heat lingered. Not from the flames — those had been tamed by the time you showed up, hauling your trauma kit and directing EMTs — but from her.

Vi.

Scarred knuckles. Sleeves rolled up. Smirking like she had no right to.

You'd patched up her shoulder after she barreled into a collapsing stairwell to rescue two kids. Stubborn idiot. She hadn’t winced once when you stitched her up. Just watched you with this lazy grin that said she enjoyed the way your hands felt on her skin a little too much.

And now, hours later, you’re both alone in the firehouse, the others having either gone home or passed out in the bunkroom.

"You always get this bossy when someone’s bleeding out?" Vi asks, stepping into the breakroom where you're pretending to clean your gear.

You glance at her. “Only when the person bleeding out is a dumbass with a hero complex.”

She chuckles, low and rough. "Come on. Admit it. You liked having your hands on me.”

You raise a brow. “You're not special. I’ve patched up half the squad.”

Vi steps closer. "Yeah, but you only look at me like that."

You freeze. She’s right. You do look at her differently. Like you’re imagining things that don’t belong in a sterile triage tent. Things that involve teeth and hands and no clothes.

When she crowds you against the counter, you don’t move away. She plants her hands on either side of you, caging you in. Her breath is warm against your ear.

"Tell me to stop," she whispers, but you don’t. Your hand grabs her shirt, pulling her in.

And then her lips crash into yours.

It’s heat and want and something close to reckless. Her hands find your hips, grip rough and hungry, like she’s been holding this in for months. You push back, bite her lip, and she groans — low, needy.

She lifts you onto the counter in one smooth move, stepping between your legs.

"You're such a goddamn tease," she growls, tugging your medic jacket off, revealing the tank top underneath. Her hands slide under it, calloused fingers dragging across your skin.

You tug her closer. “Then lets stop teasing.”

Vi doesn’t hesitate. She pulls your top over your head, mouth moving to your neck, then your chest, leaving marks that’ll be hard to explain if anyone walks in. But you don’t care. Her hands are everywhere — fast, desperate — like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you all at once.

You tug her shirt up, revealing toned muscle and old scars. She grins against your skin when you whisper “fuck” at the sight.

Her fingers trail down your stomach and into your pants. You gasp, nails digging into her shoulders.

“You’re already wet,” she murmurs smugly. “You were thinking about me.”

You arch into her hand. “Less talking.”

Vi growls, mouth crashing into yours again as her fingers slide inside, curling just right. You grip her arms, thighs trembling, as her pace picks up — fast, skilled, deliberate.

“You’re so good like this,” she mutters. “Falling apart on me.”

You come undone with a soft cry against her mouth, shuddering as she keeps you grounded with strong arms and filthy praise.

When you finally catch your breath, she’s smirking again.

“Next time I get hurt,” she says, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “you’re riding me on the stretcher.”

You laugh, breathless. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Vi grins, teeth sharp and eyes hungry. “Bet.”

The laughter fades, but the tension doesn’t.

She helps you down from the counter, but not without stealing another kiss — lazy and deep, the kind that makes your knees weak. She doesn’t let you go far, her grip still tight on your wrist as she pulls you through the dim firehouse.

The place is silent, the others long gone or dead asleep upstairs.

Vi’s got that look again — the one she gets right before doing something reckless. “You ever done it in a firetruck?” she asks, voice low, almost teasing.

You blink at her. “That a serious question?”

She grins. “I’ve had fantasies.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

But you're already following her to the truck bay.

The rig looms in the shadows, steel and red and chrome — still smelling faintly of smoke and sweat. Vi swings the door open and yanks you up like you weigh nothing, lips already back on yours before you can tease her about her enthusiasm.

You're straddling her lap before your mind even catches up.

“This seat,” she murmurs, hands sliding under your thighs, “has definitely never seen anything this good.”

You grab her jaw, tilting her face so she has to look at you. “Then make it worth the risk.”

That’s all it takes.

Vi groans like she’s been starving. Her hands are under your clothes again — rough palms trailing over your ass as she grinds up into you, hard. You feel her through her uniform pants, pressed perfectly where you want her.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come just from grinding,” you breathe, panting against her neck.

“Good,” she growls, biting your earlobe. “Do it. Make a mess on me.”

You rock your hips down, both of you gasping. Her hands guide you — firm, controlling — dragging your body against hers in perfect rhythm. The scent of smoke and leather fills your lungs, the heat unbearable in the best way.

You yank her tank up, your mouth tracing over the ridges of her abs. Her hands slide into your pants again, and this time, she’s impatient. Two fingers slide in deep, curling up until your back arches and you nearly scream.

“Shh,” she says with a dark grin, covering your mouth with her own. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the probie to walk in and catch you cumming on my fingers.”

You moan into her mouth, already shaking.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. You love this, don’t you? Getting ruined where anyone could walk in.”

You nod, breath catching as she speeds up, her other hand squeezing your ass, pushing you harder against her.

You fall apart again — harder this time — clinging to her like you’re drowning.

Vi doesn’t stop.

She lifts you slightly, sliding her pants down just enough to free the strap she wears underneath. Your eyes widen.

“Always ready?” you ask, breathless.

She smirks. “For you? Every goddamn time.”

You slide down onto her with a cry, the stretch intense and perfect. Her hands grip your hips, guiding your movements as you ride her slow, then faster, the firetruck rocking with every thrust.

Vi is relentless.

She pounds up into you with brutal precision, your nails digging into her shoulders as the obscene sound of skin on skin echoes in the small cab. Your head falls back as her lips find your chest, sucking bruises onto your skin.

“I wanna see you fall apart again,” she whispers, voice wrecked. “One more time. Right here. On my cock.”

You do. You can’t help it.

The world shatters around you as you cry her name, body trembling, and she follows right after — hands clutching you like a lifeline, face buried in your neck.

When it’s over, you slump against her, both of you sweaty and flushed, clothes half-off and breath ragged.

“We are so getting caught one day,” you murmur, dazed.

Vi grins, still inside you. “Worth it.”

[marscardigan]

thinking about soccer player!ellie and cheerleader!reader…

this is part of my soccer player!ellie and cheerleader!reader series!! go check it out!

before dating her...

soccer player!ellie who refuses to admit she has a crush, so she treats you like you’re annoying. always rolls her eyes when you wave at her from across campus, but secretly she’s dying inside when you do.

soccer player!ellie who has your whole cheer routine memorized. she watches you during warm-ups instead of listening to her coach. if someone points it out, she pretends to be looking at the scoreboard.

soccer player!ellie who doesn't follow you on instagram but has to check at least once a day if you posted something new. absolutely stalks your profile at midnight like it's her own job.

soccer player!ellie who ignores you on campus, but you once dropped your lip gloss outside the gym, and she picked it up and kept it. she doesn’t know why. itlives in the bottom of her backpack like a cursed object.

soccer player!ellie who played her worst game of the season the only day you missed it. she was too busy trying to look for you on the benches, and once she assumed you weren't there, the game had lost its purpose.

soccer player!ellie who acts extra cocky whenever you’re watching practice. suddenly she’s doing trick shots, shirt half-tucked, everything you can imagine.

soccer player!ellie who denies knowing anything about your cheer competitions but saw your team was ranked online and checked the score updates live.

soccer player!ellie who always pretends not to notice you at parties, but the second someone flirts with you, she’s watching like a hawk from across the room, jaw clenched, drink untouched. jesse’s like “just go home before you kill someone.”

soccer player!ellie who starts arriving early to practice just to “warm up,” but really it’s because she knows that’s when your team rehearses stunts on the field. she says it’s the only time it isn’t crowded. dina doesn’t believe her.

soccer player!ellie who went absolutely feral during an away game when a girl on the other team said you looked good in red. she got a yellow card five minutes later for a reckless slide. she doesn't regret it, tho.

once you're dating...

soccer player!ellie who wears your hairband like it's her personal bracelet by now. she even told you once it was her lucky charm.

soccer player!ellie who says PDA is cringe, but lets you wear her jersey to games and gets SO smug when people notice.

soccer player!ellie who will fight if anyone says your routine looked sloppy. she knows every beat and claps the loudest when you finish.

soccer player!ellie who starts doing little things like carrying your bag, bringing you water, or showing up outside practice with snacks.

soccer player!ellie who insists she’s not the romantic type, but gives you her medal the day they win regionals. doesn’t say a word. just hangs it on your neck and walks off blushing.

soccer player!ellie who starts “jokingly” calling you babe in front of people. no one thinks it’s a joke.

soccer player!ellie who dedicates goals to you by making a subtle heart shape with her fingers when you’re not looking. the team knows. the crowd knows. you still pretend not to notice.

soccer player!ellie who refuses to kiss you before games because “it’s distracting.” but if you don’t show up to wish her luck, she texts you in a panic like:

ellie: you forgot ellie: i need my good luck kiss ellie: where r u

soccer player!ellie who has your cheer bows in her room, hidden in her sock drawer. and you don’t even remember giving them to her.

soccer player!ellie who lets you do face paint for her before every home game, even though she complains the whole time:

“you’re doing too much—wait, why is there glitter on my cheek?” “shut up, you look cute.”

soccer player!ellie who scored the final goal from the regionals, and lifted her shirt to expose your initial marked on her abs. let’s say both of you were very busy after the game, because you needed to show her how much you loved the detail.

soccer player!ellie who keeps little trinkets of yours—a charm that fell off your bag, a broken hair clip, a scribbled note you tossed. they’re all in a shoebox under her bed.

soccer player!ellie who panics when you’re sad and does the most insane things to cheer you up, like drawing a comic of you two fighting crime as “captain pom-pom and goal queen.” it’s awful. you love it.

soccer player!ellie who won’t let anyone trash-talk you, even her own teammates. one girl called your cheer routine extra, and ellie benched her with a slide tackle the next day. oops!

soccer player!ellie who gets in trouble for being late to practice because she was walking you to class, carrying your pom-poms for you.

soccer player!ellie who loves when you wear her hoodie with her name after games, especially when you’re tired and clingy. she swears you’ve never looked prettier.

soccer player!ellie who helps you stretch before your performances, getting way too flustered when you sit on her lap mid-stretch and act like it's nothing.

soccer player!ellie who walks around with glitter on her face from hugging you, completely unaware, but looking smug about it.

soccer player!ellie who gets irrationally jealous when you cheer for other teams—even during friendlies.

“why were you clapping so hard for them, huh?” “ellie, i’m supposed to do it. you know i'm not your personal cheerleader, right?”

she audibly gasps after that like you had just insulted her personally.

perm taglist !

@valeisaslut @firefly-ace @sevslover @twopeoplee @mayfldss @elliesfavtoy @usuck @avalovesmus1c @samcvrpenters @mars4hellokitty @prettyinpink69 @yashirawr @furtherrawayy @maximumdreamlandcoffee @elliesfavgirlfriend @abcline006 @marieeeluvsyou @smaugayra @eriiwaiii2 @creativedespaitr

series taglist !

@vahnilla @elliecoochieeater @iheartclairo66 @thankynext @layalisthings @mascspleasegetmepregnant @machetegirl109 @modernvenuss @elliewilliamskisser2000 @liztreez @mikellie @prwttiestbunny @snuffphiliaa @ellieseightfingers @sparkle-jump-rope-queen @velvetinkbym @starletfemme @elliesbabygirl @d1psht @nomie-11 @leaaavesss @ravyaryn-n @elsbunny @alinerr @pexurina @piercedome @desiretolive @robiceps @leahflwers @angelsglitch

it doesn’t let me add more ppl sorry gals </3

[dior-luxury]

Oh my goshhhhhh I LOVED the Randomly Kissing the Dorm Leaders prompt you just did!! Their reactions were so cute and it was just the right amount of suggestive hehe!! Is there any chance you would consider doing the vice housewardens too?

Kiss And Make-Out

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - no prns mentioned .

- [𝐜𝐡.] vice dormleaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] suggestive themes . mentions of making out . romantic tension

Note: I sure can! Here you go anon! <3

Trey Clover

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. Trey had just finished up club activities and was making his way back to Heartslabyul’s dorm, a bit dusty from helping Riddle with some garden chores. He was in the middle of rolling up his sleeves when he heard footsteps running up behind him — and before he could turn around fully, you had grabbed his hand and yanked him into an empty storage room near the greenhouse.

“Whoa—! [Name]?” he blinked, only slightly surprised as the door shut behind you. “What’s going on? Did something happen—”

Your hands came up, cupping his face, and then? Kiss.

One, two, three — they came like sugar-sweet raindrops: on his cheeks, his lips, his nose, his forehead. A barrage of affection. Trey just stood there in stunned silence, warm hands lightly hovering at your waist as you showered him with love. He blinked behind his glasses, heart thudding a bit harder with each peck.

“Missed you,” you whispered between kisses. “And I just couldn’t wait anymore.”

That’s when he finally exhaled a soft laugh. “You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, cheeks flushed just enough to pinken under his freckles. He pulled you in by the waist, leaning his forehead against yours. “Dragging me into a room like this… You trying to give me a heart attack, sweetheart?”

You grinned up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Guilty.”

He chuckled, brushing your hair back gently. “You could’ve at least let me clean up first… I’m all sweaty from gardening,” he teased — but even as he said it, his thumb was brushing softly along your cheek, eyes drinking you in like you were the sweetest confection he’d ever laid eyes on.

Then, in a rare moment of selfishness, Trey kissed you back — not just once, but again and again, slow and thorough like he was trying to memorize the shape of your love. The kind of kisses that felt like coming home after a long day.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he said against your lips. “But next time… at least give a guy a warning before ambushing him, alright?”

Yeah. Right. Like you wouldn’t do it again tomorrow.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie had been running errands all over campus — Leona had sent him out again (as usual), this time to fetch some imported tea, organize his notes, and somehow restock an entire cabinet full of snacks that the Savannaclaw students had obliterated.

He was already planning a nap in the shade when you caught him walking through the hallway.

“Oh hey, babe—whoa!!” he yelped as you grabbed his wrist and practically dragged him into an old classroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

He blinked, confused and very much on alert. “H-Hey now, what’s the deal?! We gettin’ chased or somethin’? If this is about those donuts from Sam’s shop, I swear I only took—”

Then? Smooch.

You surged up on your toes and planted a kiss right on his lips, catching him mid-ramble. And then another. And another.

His back hit the wall, and you kept going — kisses on his face, his jaw, even his temple when he tilted his head in disbelief. The poor boy froze like a raccoon caught in headlights.

“Shishishi—W-Wait, hold up! You’re—You’re attackin’ me with love outta nowhere!” he laughed breathlessly, heart pounding fast under his hoodie. “Geez, I didn’t even get time to fix my hair—!”

But his words melted into mush as your lips brushed his again, and all that sass slowly melted into the softest sigh.

Ruggie’s hands eventually found your waist, gripping lightly like he wasn’t sure this was real. “Man… you really like catchin’ me off guard, huh?” he muttered with a grin, ears pink and twitching.

“You’ve been working hard,” you whispered. “You deserve a break. And kisses.”

Ruggie let out a crooked little chuckle, his smile lazy and warm. “Y’know… if this is what I get for runnin’ errands, I might start askin’ Leona for more chores.”

He leaned down, brushing his nose against yours playfully. “But hey… next time, at least lemme grab a snack first. You’re wearin’ me out, and I haven’t even had lunch.”

Still, when you reached up for one more kiss, he was already meeting you halfway — because honestly? This was the best kind of exhaustion he’d ever felt.

Jade Leech

Jade was never one to be caught off guard. He prided himself on reading people like books — knowing what they wanted, how they moved, what they might do next. He enjoyed the thrill of control, of having the upper hand in every conversation, every moment.

Which is why he found it exceptionally entertaining when you managed to surprise him.

You spotted him near the Lounge after a long, tiring day, a sly glint in your eyes. He looked elegant as ever, uniform crisp, a tray in hand, about to disappear into the staff hallway—

And then?

You grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him into an unused supply closet.

“My, my,” Jade chuckled, amused. “How assertive. Dare I ask what your intentions are, dear—”

Kiss.

Right on the lips.

And another. And another. And then down to his neck, his jawline, the corner of his smirking mouth. You didn’t give him time to speak again. You were on a mission, and that mission was: love attack.

For a moment, Jade just blinked, caught between laughter and stunned silence.

“…Oh?” he finally hummed. “Is this an ambush, or am I merely dreaming?”

You grinned against his cheek. “Just wanted to smother you in affection. No plotting, no schemes. Just kisses.”

He tilted his head, his long fingers ghosting along your waist as if to steady himself. His mismatched eyes sparkled in the low light.

“How very... reckless of you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a silken purr. “You’re lucky I’m quite fond of recklessness—especially when it comes from you.”

Then, with a grin sharp enough to cut through the quiet, he kissed you back — slow and deliberate, making you feel every second of it.

He pulled back only slightly to whisper, “Next time, let’s make it a proper ambush. Candles, a romantic setting… maybe even a little danger.”

And yet, even as he teased you, Jade was smiling. A genuine, rare smile that reached his eyes.

“You always manage to catch me off guard, darling,” he whispered. “And I must admit… I love that about you.”

Jamil Viper

He was walking down the hallway of Scarabia dorm, finally — finally — done with a mountain of tasks that had kept him running around all day. Between Kalim’s social plans, paperwork, magic practice, and student council duties, Jamil hadn’t had more than ten minutes to himself.

So when he saw you turn the corner up ahead, your eyes lighting up the moment they met his, he felt a brief but blissful relief wash over him.

“Hey, I was just about to—”

You grabbed his wrist. And pulled him straight into the nearest empty room.

“What the—?! [Name]?” he said with alarm, barely managing to close the door before your hands tangled in his scarf and you kissed him. Not once. Not gently. But in a fast, frantic flurry of affection that sent his mind into a complete stall.

“W-Wait, wait, what’s going on?” Jamil gasped between kisses, back hitting the wall. “You—I—why now?!”

But you didn’t answer — only looked up at him with that dazzling smile, the one that always cracked through his carefully built defenses. You were peppering kisses across his cheeks, his lips, even the line of his jaw, and Jamil’s brain? Short-circuited.

He tensed up at first, a natural instinct — he was used to being on edge, always cautious, always guarded.

But with every press of your lips, something in him loosened.

He let out a low breath. His eyes fluttered shut. His arms slid around your waist as if they had a mind of their own. “…You’re so unfair,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and soft against your ear. “How am I supposed to stay composed when you do things like this?”

You giggled and kissed his nose. “You don’t have to. I just wanted to remind you that I love you. Like… a lot.”

A laugh — an actual laugh — escaped him, warm and full of something he rarely allowed anyone else to see. “You’re a menace,” he muttered. “But you’re my menace.”

He cupped your cheek gently, pressing a final kiss to your forehead with a smirk. “Fine. But next time you kidnap me, warn me first. So I can at least prepare my heart.”

(He was already planning to steal you away later that night to return the favor — with interest.)

Rook Hunt

The day had been insufferably long. Between classes, track practice, and a surprise club meeting that ran two hours over, you hadn’t had a single moment alone with Rook. And the thing about dating the ever-dramatic hunter of beauty was—when you missed him, you missed him.

So when you finally caught sight of him sauntering down a hallway, humming a tune to himself, golden hair catching the sunlight through the windows, you acted.

You grabbed his wrist without a word and pulled him down a side corridor.

“Chéri?” he blinked, a surprised smile curling at his lips. “What is this sudden mystery—oh!”

You shoved open a storage room door, pulled him inside, and slammed it shut behind you.

“Mon dieu,” he laughed breathlessly as you pressed him against the wall, your hands sliding up his chest. “Such fire, such passion—!”

Kiss.

You didn’t even give him a second to finish his sentence. Your lips crashed into his like you’d been starved of him for days. And maybe you had. You kissed him over and over, hands weaving into his hair, your body pressed flush against his as if trying to make up for all the stolen moments you didn’t get today.

He gasped softly under your touch, eyes fluttering half-shut as his arms wound around your waist.

“Ah, mon ange,” he sighed between kisses. “You must know this is quite the divine surprise…”

But he made no move to stop you.

If anything, he encouraged you—letting you trail kisses down his jaw, nuzzle into his neck. His fingers splayed across your lower back as he tilted his head, allowing you all the access in the world.

“You ravish me like the fiercest of hunters,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple. “And I am but your prey, helpless to resist.”

You giggled breathlessly. “Maybe I just missed you.”

“Oh, but that makes it all the more romantic, ma chérie,” he purred, nuzzling your cheek. “To be missed so deeply… what a privilege. What a delicious ache.”

He kissed you this time—slower, deeper, full of longing.

When you finally pulled away, dazed and flushed, Rook looked at you with such open affection it nearly stole your breath all over again.

“You always catch me so beautifully off guard,” he murmured. “Next time, let me steal you away… and I’ll make sure we don’t leave that room for hours.”

Lilia Vanrouge

You didn’t plan it.

But there was just something about Lilia that made self-control impossible. Maybe it was the sly smirk he always wore, or the way he teased you just enough to stir your heart but never enough to satisfy it. Maybe it was the fact that he could vanish in the blink of an eye, leaving you aching with the need to grab him and never let go.

So when you spotted him walking through the dorm halls, humming some old war song and sipping from his spiky black tea thermos, you pounced.

“Eh? What’s this, darling—?”

You tugged him by the arm, swung open the nearest empty music room door, and dragged him inside.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you launched.

“Whoa-ho-ho~!” Lilia laughed, clearly amused as your hands clutched his shirt and your lips met his in a storm of kisses. “Oh my~ aren’t we enthusiastic today?”

You didn’t even respond. You just smothered him—kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him again and again, like you’d been holding it in all week. Because you had.

At first, Lilia let you do as you pleased, laughing into your kisses, his hands gently guiding you closer. “My, my. Did you miss me that much?” he teased, his voice low and fond.

You kissed him harder.

“…I see,” he said, amused and delighted. “So you needed your fill of me. How bold, my love. I’m flattered.”

But then, he flipped the dynamic in an instant.

He spun you around and gently pressed you to the piano behind you, lips brushing your ear. “Now that you’ve had your turn…” he whispered, voice rich and playful, “I believe it’s my turn to smother you~”

Before you could even gasp, his kisses came fast—fluttering, playful, then deep. One moment he was peppering your face with quick kisses, and the next, he was cupping your jaw and kissing you like he wanted to melt you.

When he pulled back, both of you breathless, Lilia grinned wickedly. “Stealing me away in the middle of the day? How very romantic. I should reward you for that sort of boldness more often.”

Then he winked.

“But next time you pull me into a room, dearest, make sure it locks properly. I’d hate to be interrupted while being so thoroughly loved.”

⟡ tag list : @owlisbuffering @chai-yas @yunar1 @fever-en

[flwrstqr]

﹙𝑓﹚ BABY, HOLD ON TIGHT ⟡ HOT THINGS THEY DO

𖹭 𝗠𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒

【 𝐋𝒪𝐕𝐄 】 ' 𝒏. boyfriend!enha & fem!rea ｡ 8OOwc ˊᯅˋ fluff established relationship 𓂃 skinship , petnames , hee checking you out ( click )

다니 ⠀⦂ hello,, i was suppose to post tomorrow.. but guess who's been neglecting writing a lot TT also a remake of my old fic

HEESEUNG ( when checking you out )

heeseung leans against the doorframe, eyes dragging over you slowly like he's trying to memorize every inch. “you tryna kill me or somethin’, baby?” he murmurs, biting his lip as he blatantly checks you out, no shame, no rush. “damn,” he breathes, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “how’d i get so lucky?” he pushes off the wall and saunters over, fingers hooking around your waist, pulling you close so your chest brushes his. “you look unreal tonight,” he whispers, voice low and thick, breath warm against your cheek. his hand slides up your back, and he dips his head, leaving a kiss on your cheek. he grins, all lovesick. and yeah, the date hasn’t even started yet.

JAY ( looking at your lips when you're talking )

you’re mid-sentence when you notice it again—the way jay’s eyes drop to your lips, lingering like he’s not even trying to hide it, and it makes your breath catch every time. “keep talking, baby,” he says, voice low, eyes flicking back up to yours for a second. “i like listening to you talk,” he adds, but you know he’s not listening to a damn word. he’s too focused on the way your mouth moves. when his gaze drops to your lips one more time, you give in. “just kiss me already,” you whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate—not even for a second.

JAKE ( calling you pretty girl )

jake’s always been affectionate, always calling you sweet things like “baby” and “princess,” and you love it, you do. but the first time he calls you “pretty girl”? oh you're weak on your knees. he knows it too, the way your breath catches. “what’s wrong, pretty girl?” his voice is all honey and warmth, teasing, and your heart does a full somersault in your chest. “nothing,” you mutter, but he just chuckles, thumb tracing circles into your hip, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “mm, you like that, don’t you?” he murmurs. oh god you do because when jake calls you pretty girl, it’s not just a pet name. it’s the way he says it like you’re the only one he ever wants to look at.

SUNGHOON ( pulling up his sleeves )

you’re sitting on the couch, half-listening to whatever sunghoon’s saying when he casually rolls up his sleeves, and it’s game over. his fingers tug at the fabric with ease, veins subtly flexing, silver rings glinting as he adjusts them without even looking. your mouth goes dry. “you good, baby?” he asks, glancing at you with that smirk, like he knows exactly what he’s doing—except he doesn’t, and that’s what makes it worse. or better. you can’t decide. “i—yeah,” you mumble, eyes glued to the way his forearm flexes when he runs a hand through his hair. not fair. he leans in, resting one arm on the back of the couch. “you’ve been staring for a while,” he teases. “want me to roll the other one up too, sweetheart?” your brain short circuits. yes. yes, you absolutely do.

SUNOO ( holding eye contact )

sunoo has this thing he does where he holds eye contact like he’s memorizing you. he rests his chin on his palm, eyes twinkling, lips curled in the tiniest smile. “you’re really pretty, you know that?” he says, voice light, almost absentminded, like he’s just stating a fact. his fingers trace lazy shapes on your wrist. when you tilt your head, raising a brow, he only grins, thumb brushing over your knuckles before intertwining your fingers. he doesn’t break eye contact. doesn’t even blink. “i like looking at you,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand once. and just like that, he wins—because how are you supposed to compete with kim sunoo looking at you like you’re the only thing worth seeing?

JUNGWON ( tucking your hair behind your ear )

you barely have time to admire your reflection before warm hands find your waist from behind, fingers grazing over the fabric of your dress. jungwon’s chin hovers near your shoulder, his smile evident in the way his breath fans against your skin. “you always do this,” he murmurs. “rush to get ready, forget the little things.” before you can ask what he means, he lifts a hand, fingertips brushing against your cheek as he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his eyes flicker over your face. then, with a grin so effortlessly charming it makes your stomach flip, he whispers, “there. now you’re perfect.” his thumb lingers just beneath your ear, tracing the skin there absentmindedly, like he’s memorizing you. and just like that, you’re gone.

RIKI ( leaning down to talk to you )

you're mid-sentence, drink in hand, barely listening to the noise around you when riki leans down, and god, it’s like the air shifts. you feel it before you even see him—his presence, brushing past your shoulder. “princess,” he murmurs, “you look bored outta your mind.” it’s that lean, the way he folds down just for you, one arm casually braced against the wall beside your head, the other resting low on your waist. his cologne is dizzying, cedar, and you have to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze. he grins, “wanna get outta here?” you almost forget the party even exists.

[missdynamighttt]

CRAVINGGG to come home after a long day at work and dearest, loving husband! katsuki takes care of his wife.

you step through the door, exhausted from the draining day, but before you can even set your bag down, you feel katsuki’s arms wrap around you. he pulls you into him, his embrace firm and comforting.

you let out a tired sigh, your body feeling like it’s made of jello. “katsuki, go away. i’m gross.”

he doesn’t let go. instead, he tightens his grip, pulling you even closer.

“no,” he rubs his cheek against your hair, breathing you in. "i've missed you all day."

you huff, leaning into him a little, but still feeling self-conscious. “i feel disgusting, katsuki. you shouldn’t be hugging me right now. i probably smell like i’ve been working out in the sun.”

“i don’t give a fuck,” he just grumbles and pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair. “just let me hold my damn wife.”

you can’t help but smile at the way he says it, the way he makes you feel like the most important person in the world, even after a day like this. "okay, but at least let me take off my shoes. my feet are killing me."

katsuki doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel him shift before he’s crouching in front of you. the action is so unexpected that you freeze for a moment, watching him carefully unbuckle your heel with a tenderness you didn’t expect.

you flush, a little caught off guard by the intimacy of the moment. "katsuki—what are you doing?"

he glances up, his eyes intense but soft, a small smirk playing on his lips. "just making sure you relax, baby. you deserve it. don’t want you to lift a finger. gotta take care of you.”

he gently pulls off your heel and kisses the side of your leg. his lips brush against your thigh before he carefully lifts the other foot, repeating the process.

your heart races, flustered by the attention, but you let out a shaky breath, trying not to let it show. “you’re too much…”

katsuki doesn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on your legs, eyes dark with admiration.

“baby, i don’t think you get it,” he says, slowly moving his hands up your calves, his touch reverent, almost as if he’s memorizing every curve and dip. “these legs? fuckin’ perfect. you’ve got no idea how much i love ‘em.”

you shiver slightly as his fingers trace the shape of your thigh, moving upward with a deliberate slowness. he kneels a little closer, his breath warm against your skin, and he kisses the top of your knee, as though it’s a sacred offering.

“god, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hands sliding higher, caressing the soft skin of your thighs. “never seen anyone look this good, and i get to have you all to myself.”

you swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. he’s being so intense, his worship of you so consuming, and it makes you feel like you're the only thing in the world that matters to him in this moment. “katsuki... you’re making me feel embarassed.”

he pauses, looking up at you with an almost teasing glint in his eyes. “embarassed? why? i’m just admiring my beautiful wife here.”

he places another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin.

you run your fingers through his messy hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as you sigh, feeling the exhaustion wash over you like a heavy wave. despite the warmth of his touch, you’re starting to feel the weight of the day catch up to you.

“katsuki, can i... can i shower?” you ask, your voice quiet, blissed out but still a little shy from the overwhelming attention.

he doesn't answer immediately, his lips lingering against your skin as he presses one last soft kiss to your thigh, his hands gently sliding down your legs before he looks up at you. his eyes are full of affection, a hint of playfulness still there, but he nods slowly, his grip never leaving you.

"is it okay if i join you?” he asks, the question laced with care, giving you the choice.

you meet his gaze, feeling your heart flutter at the genuine softness in his eyes. a small, tired but blissed-out smile tugs at your lips as you nod. “yes... please."

he smiles, his grip never leaving you as he stands, guiding you gently toward the bathroom. "let’s get you cleaned up, gorgeous."

once the shower is running, the warm water filling the room with steam, you step inside, letting out a content sigh as the heat envelops you.

katsuki follows close behind, and soon, the two of you are standing beneath the water, his hands moving tenderly as he helps wash away the fatigue from your body.

you lean back against him, relaxing into his touch as his fingers work through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, deliberate strokes along with your shampoo.

his hands are gentle, but the strength in them is still there. every so often, his thumb brushes against your temple, a silent reassurance that he's there.

"you're so good to me," you murmur, feeling the stress of the day melt away.

katsuki doesn’t answer at first, focusing on rinsing the shampoo from your hair before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest with a contented sigh. “i’d do anything for you, sweets. anything.”

“anything, huh?” you tease, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. “even… let me cook breakfast?”

“hell no. that’s my job," he grumbles, as if the idea is absolutely absurd.

you laugh, the sound light and airy, and he can’t help but chuckle with you, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

"what, you think i'm not capable of cooking you a decent meal?" you tease, leaning slightly to the side to catch his eye. "i can make you something amazing."

he snorts, shaking his head. "sweets, the only thing you’re amazing at is looking good in my arms."

you roll your eyes at his smug grin. “oh, i’m amazing at more than just looking good, y'know. i can, like, totally cook a meal that you'll rate 5 stars.”

he nips your shoulder lightly, the playful spark still dancing in his eyes. "if you wanna try, i guess i could let you make a little something for me. as long as you don’t burn down the kitchen, that is."

you arch an eyebrow, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. “oh, i won’t burn it down... unless you’re not around to supervise me, of course.”

“even if it’s god-awful, i’ll still eat it. but if i die from food poisoning, i swear to hell, i’m haunting your ass for the rest of my afterlife.”

“oh yeah? and what exactly does a katsuki bakugo ghost do? yell at me from beyond the grave?”

“damn right,” he smirks. “you’d never get a moment of peace. i’d be right there, messing with you every second. flicking the lights, moving your stuff, whispering in your ear when you’re trying to sleep.”

he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “and you’d still feel me, too. my hands on you, my lips on you… haunting you in all the best ways.”

you roll your eyes, still grinning. “that doesn’t sound like haunting—that just sounds like you being obnoxiously all over me forever.”

katsuki snorts. “exactly. but don’t worry, baby—i’ll make sure you don’t kill me yet. you’re stuck with me for a long, long time.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ clearing out my drafts AHHHH hope you guys enjoy another endearing, husband katsuki💜💜

[shinoko-oshi]

Dare I say Simon and a gf w/ no gag reflex..

Dare I make a one shot..

You said it like a joke. Offhanded. Barely even looking at him while your fingers tugged at the edge of his balaclava, that little grin pulling at your lips.

“I don’t have a gag reflex, y’know.”

Just that.

And somehow, minutes later, you were on your knees between his thighs, the air between you thick.

He looked down at you, thumb dragging along your cheek,“Yeah? You gonna prove it?”

“All that talk, gonna back it up birdie”

You nodded.

Wrong answer.

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging your head back, just enough to make your eyes widen.

“Words, sweetheart. Use ’em.”

“Yes,” you whispered, breath shaky. “I’ll prove it.”

He leaned back in the chair, legs spread wide, eyes never leaving your face. That look on him— calm, collected, waiting.

You didn’t say anything else. Just hooked your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugged them down, let them pool at his thighs. His cock was already hard, tip flushed while leaking pre cum.

You took him slow at first. Licking up his shaft, teasing the head, kissing along like you’re trying to memorize the shape of him with your tongue. But Simon’s patience is thin tonight, worn down to the bone. His hand is back in your hair before you can blink, tightening hard enough to sting.

“No teasing. You said you could take it.”

So you do.

You relax your jaw, angle just right, and sink down.

All the way.

His cock hits the back of your throat— and then pushes past it.

No gag nor flinch. Just the wet heat of your mouth, your throat closing around him.

Simon growls. Actually fucking growls.

“Jesus Christ—”

Your hands braced against his thighs as he started to move. Slow at first. Then harder. Deeper. His hips rolling forward with control, but no mercy.

He fucked your mouth like he owned it.

Spit ran down your chin, your eyes glassy, throat stretching to take every inch. You didn’t stop. Didn’t pull back. Just let him use your mouth like you said he could.

Simon watched the way your throat bulged around him. Watched your lips stretch and your fingers dig into his skin. Watched how good you took it.

It didn’t take long.

A few more hard thrusts, a sharp inhale later, and he spilled down your throat with a low, broken groan.

Watched as you swallowed without blinking. Licked your lips when you pulled back. Looked up at him like it was nothing.

His chest was rising and falling, his hand still in your hair.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, voice rough. “You weren’t lying.”

You just smiled.

“Told you.”