#broiled even

[in-stitchesx]

I totally forgot to report on this when it happened but watching a tk scene during a 3D movie almost killed me instantaniously

I don't CARE if it was only like 40 seconds long that was LONG ENOUGH!!!!

[existencebringsonlypain]

at least this time the horrifying baking monstrosity is my fault

[pinkprettycure]

Graphic Design is my burden

logos for (some) of the special combos

[wholelottagin]

You guys, I'm so bad at horror games lol

I'm like 20 mins into Call of Cthulhu and I have a tension headache from straining my neck so bad

I am never going to finish this game...

[blujayonthewing]

crucial to me that you understand that this happens right before laios tries a little raw bite of the giant parasite they all cooked and ate like a fish

[grim-has-issues]

despite my predisposition to draw attractive anime men, god has given me a vision of what our dear imprisoned silence is going to look like in that dive bar.

a sad wojack

[notwaitinginthecorner]

I want to be friends with a girl who wants to kiss me but not date me

[pinkprettycure]

person i follow on tiktok said it best that americans trying to adopt the 4b movement is just straight up appropriation cuz like for one, the fact that a bunch of english speakers are taking a name that only makes sense if you speak korean,

and for secondly, the Context in which it formed in and the cultural expectations of women are entirely fucking different in korea than they are in america. like the things we're going through here are not the same problems faced by korean women.

honestly i had been thinking that it felt like an odd movement to try to utilize when like i said the other day, a lot of the men in question are incels who get no bitches and it would literally be another tuesday afternoon for them to be rejected by a woman. but also like... its not just that white women also voted trump, its also that these policies are just as white supremacist as they are misogynist. one reason (white) men want to ban abortions is because they think that (white) women aren't having enough (white) babies. they dgaf about women of color. woc are the ones who are most likely to be jailed over it.

[thesnacken]

Oh COME THE FUCK ON

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Two)

CW: Mutual masturbation again, Simon has incredibly perverted thoughts about you, a stranger jumps into your backyard!!! :)

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

The Summer air was sticky, spits of sweat clinging to the back of your neck as intricates of hair moulded to your skin. You felt damp, your clothes acting like an uncomfortable Band-Aid that strained against your flesh causing an itching sensation that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard you rubbed or scratched.

It was upsetting, you dearly loved your garden. You took great pride in how pretty it was, the adornment of tulips and dahlias, entwined between rows of carnations and peonies. There was a stark difference between your house and your neighbour, even between the differing shades of grass, his a deeper juniper and yours a dewy pine.

Steady hands gripped the blue watering can, droplets beading at the top before feeding the parched plants. Gloved hands patted down the wet dirt, your eyes squinting under the boiling sun as you hurried under some shade. Thirsty lips found the straw, the sickly sweetness of pink lemonade sliding down your throat as you let out a dramatic sigh.

Your eyes trailed over the fence, the wood structure was tall, yet not tall enough to fully conceal your neighbour’s house, his kitchen on display as you froze, a staggering figure watching out the window at you. You waved awkwardly, holding up your glass of lemonade as Simon turned around, walking away from the glass pane.

Your belly felt hot. Was he watching you that whole time? You glanced down at your sundress, a bright red puffed out with a drastic shade of yellow flowers splattered around the fabric. Did he think you looked weird? Or pretty? What if he thought you were creepy and staring at him first?

You shook your head, chucking your gardening gloves to the side as you strolled inside. The soft strum of music played, your fans working overtime to cool down your house. You had never made much of an effort to speak to your neighbour, yet realised he never made much of an effort to speak to anyone. You had never seen him converse with anyone in the neighbourhood, and there was only a handful of times when another car was pulled into his driveway.

Maybe he was lonely. You despised the way your brain worked, always conjuring up someone’s life story without even a hint of the person. Nevertheless, you found yourself in the kitchen, sifting flour into a sugary mix, moulding chocolate chips into the dough balls before placing them in the oven.

Your kitchen broiled with the smell of chocolate chip cookies, your fingers padding into the tops of them before letting them sit and harden. You would admit, you partook in several hobbies, baking and gardening being two of them. Though you didn’t need to be doing this, a part of you was aching to understand the man who has been living next door to you for over 2 years now.

Shaky hands guided you out the door as you contemplated knocking, pacing back and forth across the porch several times before you anxiously padded against the wood, straightening out your sundress with a plate of cookies in your other. Simon stayed seated for a moment, creeping towards the door almost silently before beady eyes looked through the peephole. The Lieutenant stilled, taking in your pretty figure and the baking in your other hand, the subtle display of your cleavage almost enticing him as he watched you bounce on your feet nervously, awaiting him.

He opened the door, a neutral expression on his face. “Hello!” You squeaked, “I was baking, and I just wanted to bring you some. We haven’t really met before, and I guess I wanted to be a friendly neighbour seeing as you’ve just gotten home from being away.” You rambled on a bit before shutting yourself up, holding the plate out.

Simon held his breath as you spoke, taking in the way your lashes fluttered every time you looked around in a fiddly manner. “Thanks.” His voice was gruff, his accent piercing through the deepness as he showed no sign of emotion in his expression.

“Well... I guess that’s it, enjoy the cookies,” you sighed, handing off the plate as you turned on your heels. Simon let out a deep breath before calling out to you.

“Do you want to come in and I don’t know, watch something? I was just watching the TV, and you went to the trouble of making these. The polite thing to do.”

You nodded, slowly, but let a big smile crack through your face as you quickly huddled inside his home. His house was a lot darker than yours, with neutral colours staining the furniture with minimalistic pieces of clutter. There was a stark difference between the two of you in general. You appeared full of colour and life whereas he was more reserved and mysterious.

You plonked yourself on his couch, grey leather rubbing against the back of your thighs as you adjusted the skirt of your dress. He placed the cookies on the coffee table in front of you both, the cushions sinking as he sat down, his large thighs spread as he turned on the television, his arm automatically slinging across the top of the sofa.

It was awkward. Neither of you spoke as he fiddled with the channels, landing on some old sitcom you had only seen when nothing else was on. Your nimble fingers reached for a cookie as you held your hand over you to make a makeshift plate. Simon’s dark eyes flickered towards you, watching the way your mouth moved, lips curling over the cookie before you sucked any crumbs up.

As time passed, you grew more comfortable, your legs plush against the seat as you rested against the armrest, laying your face on the palm of your hand as you occasionally laughed. Simon felt like a creep, focusing more on you than the TV show he chose. He noted all the small details in your face, every visible crease and line in your features, the way your cheeks puffed up slightly as you laughed and how your iris’ would dart across the screen when a new person appeared.

Greedy carob orbs sucked in the sight of your supple cleavage, the delicate bounce of your breasts as you adjusted yourself occasionally. His cock chubbed at the display of your skin, the hem of your dress riding up over the plushness of your thighs, as his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips.

He rubbed his hand over his mouth as he looked away from you, eyebrows furrowed at the perverted thoughts racking around his skull. He adjusted his pants subtly, letting out a near-silent groan at the thought of you bent over the couch, wanton holes on display as you wept into the leather, his hands cracking down on the fat of your ass as he left a stain of his large hand.

He imagined you on your knees in front of him, doe-eyes staring up at him with unshed tears as you spluttered around his girthy cock, taking him down your tight throat as you dribbled onto your bare breasts. But oh dear, his length practically aches as he imagined the sight of you bouncing on his lap, tight cunt filled with him as he forced you to focus on the dumb show, narrating what was happening as he kissed your sloppy cervix, staining your gummy walls with hot spurts of his cum.

He was almost sad when the show ended, your knees knocking together as you thanked him for inviting you in. He gave you a small smile, eyes creasing slightly as he nodded.

“Thank you for the cookies. If you need anything, let me know.”

You almost giggled in excitement as you rushed inside your own house. It became a routine now; one you didn’t even know he knew about. Desperate fingers clung to the lace of your panties, peeling them down your legs as you ground your sloppy pussy against your pillow, vibrator nestled into your hardened clit as you moaned out into the palm of your hands.

Your hands found your neglected chest, pulling the straps of your nightgown down as you tweaked at the puffy buds, swirling your digits around them as your eyes rolled back in sheer pleasure. Simon’s hand rutted to the frequency of your moans, slick balls aching for release as he waited for the higher-pitched squeal you let out while you orgasmed, yet it never came.

Instead, he was greeted with the sound of a more frightened squeal and frantic rustling. Your eyes were dead shut as you approached your high, opening to take in your blissful figure before they twitched towards the window, the sight of a man climbing over your fence sending chills through every nerve you had as you squealed, rolling onto the floor as you adjusted your nightgown, your panties quickly slipped up your thighs once more.

Distressed hands reached for your phone, calling emergency services about an intruder before you did the most sensible thing you believed to be possible while you waited.

You frantically banged against Simon’s door.

[joffyworld]

AHHHHH SO GOOD ELIZA IS LEVELLING UP THE COOKING

Page 2... Colored

AND YES IN THE DARK SHAMURA'S PUPILS ARE VIOLET AND SHIMMER

I find it funny to look at the different stages of this page. I can still

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.❞

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE — OVERSTIMULATION.

⤿ pairings: jacaerys velaryon x betrothed!reader.

⤿ word count: 6.5K (i got carried away)

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), experienced!reader, dom!reader, sub!jace, dry humping/grinding, jace is a virgin, horny/yearning jace, mutual pining, heavy kissing, overstimulation (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), handjob, cunnilingus (fem!rec), talking jace through it, praise kink, hair-pulling kink, lots of body kissing, teasing, dirty talk, lots of begging

⤿ note: lowkey this is the final jace post for a long time, I think I got it all out & tried to combine some kinktober requests all into one :)) hope y’all enjoy!

Dusky curls fall across pallid features, brows creased in concentration with a curtain of stoicism.

The scrawling of a quill scratches hastily against parchment, its destination unknown to you. It is difficult to see him as a man grown, for men do not often pout with pliant lips.

Nightfall brings an unwanted chill, the first inklings of oceanic ice biting away at your bones, swirling about through the ancient stronghold of Dragonstone. Even the fur-lined slip you wear does not offer much comfort.

In the sparse moments that you shared with Jacaerys since the announcement of your union, you’ve strived to learn as much as you can about him. Loveless, tenuous arrangements were commonplace — you did not want to waste your years toiling alongside a man who cared little for you.

To your great fortune, he shared your sentiments, tracing the outline of your soul with his fingertips, gracing you with his time whenever he could. With the youth of the evening underway, you sought him out, having missed him at dinner.

Between the gap in the door and the cobbled archway, you stand within the shadows of the corridor, one palm perched along ancient mahogany. Wordlessly, you keep to your fleeting observations, hues flickering across the handsome plane of his visage.

The Prince of Dragonstone — your intended, whose kindly hand continued to cradle yours through the endless turbulence of a darkening political climate. You considered yourself lucky — it could’ve been much worse, an arranged marriage.

Jacaerys’s chambers fare far better than your own, befitting of royalty, steeped in Targaryen decorum and tapestries of crimson and black. Candlelight dances across his jaw, bathing him in a light so spectacular that it nearly rips the air from your lungs.

Handsome is a mere understatement — the Velaryon prince was every bit as comely as some gallant knight ripped from pages of a novella. Your stomach erupts with constant butterflies whenever you catch a glimpse of him, longing to tangle yourself within him.

For a moment, he pays you little mind, drowning in a sea of parchment, tackling the growing duties ushered in by the brink of war. You admired his desire for usefulness — he had brought plentiful allies into the fold with his determination and ambition.

“You did not come to dinner,” Your announcement is disarmingly gentle, the croon of a songbird through dusk as you slip inside of his quarters. It seems to ensnare him then, having you here, unchaperoned. “Are you not famished?”

You carried a silver plate of lukewarm foodstuffs, roasted quail, broiled vegetables, and a smattering of fruit — his stomach lurches at the sight. “I suppose I lost track of time,” He exhales, placing his quill down atop his desk. “Forgive me — my responsibilities seem rather endless.”

Beauty blossomed from you like a flourishing meadow, the warmth of springtime; tender, made to cloak him in your sweetness. He was captivated by you, still smitten to be alone in a room, and yet he committed countless sins within the recesses of his mind.

Between the occasional grace of your hand and a chaste kiss against his cheek, it left Jacaerys within a realm of wanting. An ocean of you, and he was drowning. It was improper to think of you in such a salacious manner, but the hot blood of youth prevailed.

“Then break from it,” You insisted, footsteps light as you crossed the threshold from doorway to desk, nudging the plate of food in his direction. “Hours without a quill in-hand will not hinder you any less.”

A threadbare smile graced his comely features, and he seemed accepting of your suggestion. In the time that you had been betrothed, he had made every effort to learn more about you — such efforts were not in-vain, as he made ample progress.

There was a kindly warmth to you, a depth that he found invigorating. You were shy, initially — time softened you, and you unfurled like the petals of a moonflower, showing your promise and intelligence, your swift wit.

Reluctantly, Jacaerys submitted to your advice, abandoning his quill and parchment for the somewhat mundane taste of now-cold food. Still, it was enough to relieve the gnawing bite within his stomach, allowing him to relax as much as one could.

“Why does your quill scratch so furiously?” Your inquiry drifted through the air, to be caught by him. It seemed that his only company was that of dust-laden tomes and endless parchment that swallowed him whole.

Begrudgingly, a wistful sigh tore past your betrothed’s rosy lips, fixed into a vexed expression. “I work tirelessly to bring allies into the fold for my mother’s cause,” He uttered, picking at the stem of a grape. “Some of it is to no avail.”

Empathetic, you placed your palm atop his shoulder, sinking into velvet and toughened silk. He nearly buckled beneath such a simple touch alone, fighting away the string of untoward thoughts. Instead, he reached, digits climbing to seize yours.

“Do not let this weight burden you so, Jacaerys. There are more than enough men to even the load,” Shaking his head, you were again privy to your intended’s glaring streak of stubbornness. “You do not have to take it all on your shoulders.”

“It is the only way to find some shred of worth, of usefulness,” He bemoaned his mother’s tight leash — she never let him scout, take to the skies on Vermax, participate in anything that wasn’t docile. “Being coddled in this way is maddening.”

Silken digits flexed around his hand, prompting him to relax, if he were even capable of such a thing. “If I were the Queen, my desire would be to protect you. Coddling can be easily mistaken for an overprotective nature.” You soothed, canting your head to one side.

He took little comfort in your words, as much as he longed to believe them. Perhaps he did not see such a goal now — in time, his thoughts may shift. “I will not trouble you with such thoughts any longer.” Jacaerys exhaled, and you let it rest.

In an unexpectedly sweet gesture, you brought his hand to the plushness of your lips, and as if you were some debonair swordsman, kissed his knuckles. The obvious flush of rose permeated his cheeks, and you then released his hand, much to his dismay.

Silence filled the void of conversation as you wandered about his chambers, quietly admiring the draconic decorum before seeking to sit, plucking at your nightgown. Being alone with him, here — it wasn’t entirely proper, and subconsciously, you were aware of this.

“Did supper yield any conversation of importance?” He inquired, eyes following you as you sat down atop the velveteen cushion of the chaise lounge. Hues of wisteria and mauve comprised your evening gown, colors that you wore splendidly.

“You did not miss much of anything,” Twisting around within your seat, you faced Jacaerys, tucking a fist beneath your chin. “Though, I certainly missed your presence. I feel like a stranger without you near.” You murmured.

Sent to Dragonstone to be at the side of your betrothed, you were away from home — unnerved, pensive, and left to wander about with no true direction. Jacaerys had done his best at ensuring that you were comfortable, but the feeling was not a permanent one.

“For that, I apologize,” Jace sighed, finishing half of his plate before rising from his seat. “I fear that this conflict has put a strain on all within this castle. You are not the source of any indifference.” He assured you, circling the lounge to sit by your side.

Closeness was something he’d yearned for in a way he never had before, and within the proximity of your warmth, he seemed to bristle. Seven Hells, how would he outlast this storm? He could not seem to halt the mounting desire he had for you.

If it weren’t for his sensibility and wanting to be gallant for you, as your intended husband, the impetuousness of lust would’ve guided his hand.

Crackling embers within the hearth began to wane, basking you in shades of orange, growing duller with each passing moment. He sat up straighter in your presence, stealing glances where he could, committing your features to memory.

Reassured, you offered him a gracious smile, hands folded neatly within your lap. “It is comforting to know that my presence here is not unwanted,” You sighed, casting your gaze to the flames. “I must thank you for your kindness, Jacaerys.”

A fluttering heat settled within the pit of your stomach when you momentarily caught his eyes — earthy-brown swirling with something indiscernible, yet something faintly familiar. Carnality was not lost upon you, for you had experienced it before.

Jacaerys, however — you pondered if your betrothed was still virtuous. The sins committed in your youth had been carefully hidden beneath many layers, layers you felt as if you could reveal to him.

Clearing his throat, Jacaerys tempered himself, wanting to pull himself in from acting upon basic impulses. Some part of him felt truly depraved for thinking of you in such untoward ways, but he couldn’t help himself. Many evenings were spent in grisly solitude, dreaming of you, fantasizing.

”It is my duty as your betrothed to ensure your comfort,” His words emerged as somewhat breathless, as if he were labored in his attempts to draw air. You did not see it, but he fisted the cloth along his thigh in an attempt to relieve some tension. “I am to be your husband.”

“Yes, and for that, I am eternally grateful,” Steeling yourself, you decided to give him the truth, unobstructed and plain as a clear day. “I do not wish for there to be any secrets kept between us, which is why I must confess something to you.”

Perplexed, dark brows furrowed together, yet they seemed to show little signs of hostility or malice. There were countless options as to what this could be — anything. A secret laid bare before him in a moment like this had the potential to ruin everything.

Through a clenched fist and tight jaw, Jacaerys swallowed the growing lump within his throat, affording you the courtesy of his undivided attention. “What is troubling you?” Rigid, he waited for you to speak, noticing the brief hesitation that surrounded you.

A sliver of you feared judgment, that such past deeds would permeate your union in a sour light, but you hoped that Jacaerys would not begrudge you for it. With a steady inhale, you cleared your throat.

“I have lost my maidenhead,” Silently, you pleaded to whatever Gods would listen, hoping that Jacaerys would be kind enough to lend you his understanding. “Before this union, before I was betrothed to you. It was long in the past and something that weighs heavily on me.”

It was not anger he felt, but jealousy.

Jealous that another man had the pleasure of having you, to touch you, to live within your fair heart. He nearly shuddered when imagining you in such a lewd manner, so much so that his features became rosy in pallor. Yet, it was long in the past and something set in-stone.

Out of nervousness, you let out a soft cough, smoothing your palms across your legs. “I — Please forgive me, Jacaerys. I only wished to have transparency between us. I hope that this does not tarnish anything.”

“No,” Jacaerys inhaled sharply, hot air filling his lungs, heart thrumming beneath his ribcage. “It does not tarnish anything.” An angry heat crawled across his spine, settling his flesh ablaze with another wave of want, an ache that refused to leave him.

“You are not angry with me?” The sweetness of your inquiry tasted saccharine upon his tongue, honeyed words tangling around his heart. It wasn’t something that you were proud of, but you did not regret such actions, either.

“I am not,” He assured, tensing when you brazenly reached for his hand, squeezing it as a show of affection. Jacaerys felt so incredibly pathetic, feeling his cock twitch incessantly within his trousers from the mere touch of your heavenly hand. “You are still my betrothed. My sentiments will not change.”

Even still, he looked pensive, as if he were teetering on the brink of madness. There was a visible frustration within his features that betrayed his words, prompting you to question him sharply.

“You seem agitated, even still. What troubles you?” It was too shameful to confess to his insurmountable sins — how horribly he desired you, this heart of rot. Jacaerys feared that you would despise him if he said what was on his heart and mind.

Flushed and flustered, he looked away, yet you continued to chase after him, digits caressing across his hand. Gooseflesh iced his spine, throat growing with thickness as he shook his head. “It is improper, and unbecoming of a Prince.”

“More unbecoming than what I just confessed to you?” You wanted him to be put at-ease — intimacy was merely a fact of life, and you understood its sacredness, but the past was simply that. “Jacaerys, we are to be wed, you and I. Consummation will inevitably be apart of that. There isn’t anything that you could say that would turn me away now.”

He would seek absolution on the morrow for this — there was no returning from the onslaught of desire he now faced. It was as if a great storm had rattled his bones, and instead of rainfall, it was his lust laid bare, as dark as swirling thunderclouds.

Biting at his tongue, Jacaerys attempted to stave off his confession, earthen hues flickering away, clinging to anything else. It was wrong to think of you so often — and each thought was wrought with a stinging lust.

“I hunger for you,” It was spoken in a gravelly groan that made your insides twist with a newfound excitement. His cock was throbbing, aching with something awful. “I am envious of this man in your past, longing to be in his place. I have … Thought about you, in ways that are untoward.”

Fluttering breaths hitched within the depths of your throat, growing thicker with each passing moment. Nails dug into the cushion beneath you, his confession leaving behind a wake of fire, turning you to ash.

Admittedly, Jacaerys was not alone in his lascivious imaginations — you fantasized about the very same, more times than you could possibly count.

Jacaerys steeled himself, and as much as he desired to remain collected and maintain propriety, it was all dissolving at the seams. “I — I have not the experience that you have, but I hope that I can learn what pleases you.”

His affections were ravenous, the sting of youth that burned with inexperience, yet he cared little for such a thing. Jacaerys was eager, beyond desperate to know how to best pleasure you, longing for your instruction, if you would offer it freely.

A growing fire stirred within your loins, enough to make your breath hitch within your throat. “Do you wish to consummate tonight?” You questioned, and to that, Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, no — I want to touch you,” His desperation was gorgeous, something that you seldom experienced. “I long to learn your body, but I fear that I may covet you.” Jacaerys uttered, lips parting as a wisp of air tore past his mouth.

“There is no sin in coveting your wife,” Your voice had rolled into some mesmerizing lull, a near-purr that sent shivers down his spine. “Someone who is already yours.” The label was now established, and you were quite satisfied with that. You were blessed to have one of the better husbands in the realm.

Jacaerys huffed, pliant lips graced by firelight, deliciously pink as he met your mouth halfway. It was a frenzied kiss, born of his own yearning and overwhelming desperation, and yours began to climb to new heights of their own.

This hunger was different — it was thrilling and exhilarating, sending a rush of excitement to your stomach, thighs shifting together beneath your nightgown. Your hands reached for his shoulders, digits toying with the clasps of his cloak.

Tousled curls framed his freckled visage, cheeks blossoming with a delicate shade of rose as he kissed you, so passionate that it nearly stole your breath from your lungs. Your digits then crawled towards the nape of his neck, seeking to pull him closer.

A simpering groan stirred within his throat, erupting in a cacophony of breathy sighs as he felt you press closer. Silk clung to your frame, allowing him to glimpse your beauteous curves, to know that something perfect dwelled beneath.

Pupils blown with lust were shielded beneath thick eyelashes and fluttering lids as he scrambled to catch his breath, hands unsure of themselves. “Show me what to do,” Jacaerys sighed, feeling your lips halt to a crawl. “Please.”

To your awe and delight, Jacaerys was subservient, willing to learn and to let you guide his hand. Instinct would drive him soon enough. “Let your hand wander, wherever it pleases you.” Soft digits folded around his wrist, bringing his palm to your collarbone.

If he acted on such whims, there was no telling where his hand might travel, and so he restrained himself. Soft gossamer fabrics swept against his fingertips as he felt the divide where clothing met flesh. He wanted to unravel you, see you with his own eyes.

An excitable shiver iced his spine, jaw tensed as you slipped from your robe, only a curtain of thin silk resting between him and your body. His features seemed permanently steeped in a warm blush, painted with a swath of rose and pink.

The soft peaks of your nipples pebbled beneath fabric at the loss of your robe, gooseflesh raking across your skin at the pace of a wave. His hesitation was visible, etched into his features as he deliberated on what to do, afraid of startling you as if you were a doe in the woodlands.

It was then when you pressed closer, slipping yourself into the expanse of his lap, tossing a leg over his hips until you settled fully. His earthy hues widened, breath hitching within the depths of his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

What he wanted to do and what was expected of him were two forking avenues. Jacaerys felt his mouth water involuntarily, palms finally finding their confidence as he placed them atop your hips, caressing toward your thighs. “You are mesmerizing, and even that is a sore understatement.”

His honeyed words elicited a smile from you, fingers gracing the velvet of his doublet, seeking to slip beneath the clasps to remove his tunic. “May I?” You inquired, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession as your betrothed nodded breathlessly.

As nimble fingers sought to rid him of his tunic, Jacaerys craned forward, mouth desperately seeking your own. A delicate gasp slipped past your lips, dancing with his own, hands preoccupied with feasting upon bare flesh.

He was lean, musculature present yet nothing close to bulky. Broad shoulders were covered in smatterings of freckles that climbed toward his visage, dusted across his face. Jace shivered beneath your palms as they skirted across his chest.

The prominent tent within his trousers brought about an ache like no other, one that he longed to extinguish. Your position made it difficult for him to focus, occasionally bumping your core against him, thighs squeezing incessantly at his hips.

The galloping of his heart slammed against his ribcage, a fluttering sensation spreading like hot tendrils throughout his chest. Darkening hues caught a glimpse of your breasts, yearning to see you without any obstruction at all.

A pang of anxiousness swelled with his gut, the nervousness of performing, of ensuring that you were well-satisfied by his hand. Each kiss evoked a wave of desire that threatened to burn him to ash in your fire, feeling your fingers rake through his curls.

His hands kindly roamed over your body, cupping the swell of your hips through your gown before rising across your stomach. They inevitably sought your breasts, kneading into your clothed flesh, and he felt the soft moan stir within your throat.

Only thin laces provided a degree of separation — between your heavenly flesh and his sinful hand.

“Where do you enjoy being touched?” Jacaerys whispered, features feverishly hot, basked in an orange glow; ethereal, with the makings of a true prince. “I wish to please you.” The needy strain within his tone filled your belly with fire.

“By your hand? Everywhere,” You crooned, dazzled by his gentleness and eagerness to learn. Jacaerys touched you with true selfless intent, driven by the carnal desire to please you, satisfy you as your intended husband. “Between my legs, my thighs, breasts, neck.”

Jacaerys reached for the laces of your nightgown, searching your countenance for any sign of hesitation. “May I undress you?” He questioned, voice pitched with lust, a delicious husk that scratched a certain part deep within you.

“Yes,” A huff, a sigh of relief — you were the very picture of temptuous beauty, armed with the grace of a maiden. You watched with thinly-veiled rapture as Jacaerys gingerly tugged at the laces, silk sagging upon your form. “You are so perfect.”

He was a novice still, merely an apprentice when it came to the intricacies of sensuality, yet hearing your sweetly-spoken praise made him preen. Billowing silk fell away, unraveling your form until it was naked flesh exposed to the warmer air of his chambers.

Gods, you were so beautiful — painfully so, a goddess incarnate, made for him to worship so reverently at your feet. Jacaerys could not mask his want for you, tracing along your bare flesh as if you were a map of constellations, yet even stars would envy you.

With a steadily-growing confidence and assurance, Jacaerys’s fingers caressed along your thigh, tracing upward until he reached the pliant curve of your chest. He cupped your breast, feeling you bristle beneath his touch, thumb brushing across your nipple.

A shiver gripped you, lips parting with a soft gasp as you careened forward, gooseflesh crawling along your spine. “Jacaerys,” A low moan stirred within your throat, eyes pleasantly half-lidded. You felt his lips cautiously press against the slope of your jaw. “Don’t stop.” You sighed.

Swallowing the lump of anxiousness within his throat, Jacaerys did not deliberate, attempting to shed himself of his hesitancy. Each kiss was exploratory, soft lips peppering themselves toward the column of your throat.

He continued to knead and toy with your breast, savoring the sensation of silky flesh within his palm, digits flicking over your nipple. Your hand raked through his curls, absentmindedly tugging until it evoked a groan from his mouth.

Warm, molten heat coalesced between your thighs, slick against your core as you rocked yourself against his growing erection. Jacaerys gasped, lips nearly faltering, but he didn’t want to tear himself away from you so soon.

His kisses became fervent, hot against your flesh as he kissed his way across your throat, seeking your collarbone. Your unattended breast did not lack the attention for long, as he kneaded into your chest with a passionate need.

“Use your mouth.” You instructed, voice teetering along the fine edge of breathlessness, teeth grazing across your lower lip. Jacaerys peered at you, visage flushed with pink, earthy hues flickering toward your breasts.

Jacaerys obeyed, mouth making a trail toward your chest, holding you aloft. Curious lips peppered themselves over your breast, shuddering at the sensation of your nails gently raking over his scalp. “Here?”

You nodded, unable to pry your eyes away from him as he took one of your breasts into his mouth, teeth grazing soft flesh, sucking at your nipple. A wanton moan tore past your lips, such a cry causing his grasp to tighten, your back arching into him.

“Perfect,” Sweetly-spoken praises drifted throughout his chambers, hips incessantly grinding themselves against his clothed tent. Jacaerys nearly moaned in-tandem with you, kissing your chest with gallantry, attempting to stave off his burning arousal. “Do you enjoy that?”

Feigning ignorance as to not give you an edge, Jacaerys looked to you, flushed countenance betraying the words coming out of his mouth. “Enjoy what?” He inquired, hoping to distract you by craning upwards for a kiss.

“This,” Perplexed, you rocked your hips forward again, your cunt brushing against the tent in his breeches. Jace very nearly collapsed beneath your gesture, dark brows furrowing together. “Does it feel pleasurable?”

Jacaerys hesitated, terrified of reaching his peak and ending things prematurely. “Yes,” He panted, throat swimming with a certain thickness. “Gods, I need you — you can’t continue like this.” He pleaded, somewhat sheepish. “I do not wish for it to end so soon.”

Planting a kiss against your betrothed’s brow, you cocked your head to one side. “Nothing has to end once you’ve reached your peak, Jace,” He reveled in your use of his nickname. “There is plenty left to do.”

Filled with a semblance of relief, your intended traced his hands along your sides, feeling along your body. “What would you want me to do?” Eagerness crept into his voice, something you greatly appreciated.

“Kiss me between my legs,” You suggested, watching the scarlet pallor flourish within his cheeks, spreading toward his throat. “Touch me, if it pleases you.” As if to accentuate your statement, you grinded against him again, eliciting a husky moan from the depths of his throat.

Dragging his hand toward the apex of your thighs, he peered at you for tutelage, guidance on where exactly to touch you. Wordlessly, your hand slipped to his wrist, coaxing his digits to your slick cunt, noticing the blush on his features.

Admittedly, you were just as feverishly hot, lips parting slightly as he began to explore, concentrating on your satisfaction. Two fingers parted your petals, seeking to stroke along your slit. It evoked a soft gasp from you, hips careening into the subtle gesture.

“There?” Jacaerys questioned, digits creeping upward until they softly rolled around your clit, stimulating that electric clutch of nerves. You moaned, and it seemed to offer him some answers. “Is that what you want?” He whispered, octave sultry in its resonance.

His words made you smitten, yet you nodded in response, watching as he began to find his confidence. Letting your palms drift toward his abdomen, your back arched as he began to toy with your clit, reveling in the pleasure scrawled across your countenance.

His perfect lips consumed your whimpers, swallowing them whole in the embrace of his mouth. Jacaerys kissed you hard, lips dancing in such a heated entanglement, yet his digits never ceased their movements.

Eager digits preened through his dark tresses, one fist gripping at the nape of his neck. Your other hand sought to find the waist of his trousers, tugging at the strings until they loosened altogether. His visage appeared bewildered, as if he didn’t expect it, yet he didn’t want you to stop.

A whine tore through your throat as he circled your clit with a clumsy inexperience, yet you wouldn’t fault him for it. Jacaerys exerted more effort into learning alone than your previous paramour ever had, and you had nothing but gratitude in your heart.

Jacaerys’s fingers graced places where he knew he could hear you — evoke a myriad of disgraceful noises from your tongue, a maiden of desire. He found his pace inevitably, digits sinking along your weeping cunt before gracing your clit again.

This repetitive pattern made your thighs twitch, perspiration glittering along your brow as you brazenly loosened your betrothed’s underclothes. “I want to touch you,” You whispered near the shell of his ear. “I would not neglect you so.”

With a shiver of anticipation, those dilated, earthy hues of his silently pleaded with you to do whatever you wanted — Seven Hells, he would never belong to another. He was yours, imploding upon himself with your touch and tender gaze alone.

He nodded, pink and compliant, assisting you with maneuvering his breeches aside enough for you to free his cock. Jacaerys was embarrassed at how eager he’d become from this alone, length glistening with a sheen of precum.

Jacaerys did not allow his hand to still completely, lazily tracing his digits across your cunt, shivering whenever your soft palm encircled his length. The contact elicited a breathless groan from his mouth, unable to conceal the wave of excitement that flooded through him.

The tender clash of your lips sent a rush of warmth through you, coalescing between your thighs, heat stirred by the presence of Jacaerys’s fingers. Ensuring a sluggish pace, your hand stroked along your lover’s cock, thumb brushing over the head.

His stomach felt unnaturally tight, a coil of festering heat that slowly unraveled itself. “Gods, you are incredible.” Jacaerys huffed against your lips, voice nearly tapering off into a low whine when you began to kiss his jaw.

Pleasure was mutually exchanged, touching one another in-tandem, bodies beginning to glisten with a sheen of perspiration. It was your lips that lingered against his neck, showering his sweet skin in an untold amount of feather-light kisses.

Flushed with embarrassment, he felt the occasional jolt of his hips as he thrust into your hand, cock throbbing with an overwhelming bliss.

Jacaerys felt trapped within some lust-ridden haze, focus unsteady and sluggish. A soft, simpering moan resonated from you, drifting beside his ear, taking residence within his mind.

A cacophony of crass noises emanated throughout the walls of his chambers — breathy sighs intermingled with wanton moans, the exchange of flesh for fantasy. Soft lips peppered themselves along his freckled shoulder.

Never faltering in your ministrations, your hand continued to stroke along his cock, pace developing into something evocative. Jacaerys groaned, eyes half-lidded, pliant mouth parted as a string of satisfied sighs escaped him.

The simmering flame of desire burned brightly within the pit of your stomach, his digits continuing to stroke along your cunt. A cry of delight tore past your lips, nails lightly digging into his shoulder.

Embarrassment rippled through him whenever he happened to moan, flushed like a ripe peach. His ministrations were passionate, done in a flurry of desperation and excitement. “I … I —” Jacaerys groaned.

“Jace,” You panted, gooseflesh raking across your spine as you rocked your hips forward, seeking any shred of friction. “Gods, I need you.” The words nearly bit his heart into two, oozing crimson desire and want.

“You have me,” Jacaerys insisted through a strained sigh, a solemn promise through pleasured groans. His hips jolted again, cock desperately sliding against your palm, begging for anything you offered to him. “Seven Hells!” He groaned.

Pleasure mounted, swirling within him like a tumultuous wave, one that he seldom experienced. Digits began to still within you, losing their rhythm, abandoning it for something erratic. He chased after his encroaching release, coil beginning to unfurl within his stomach.

Another kiss invited his own demise as you sought sanctuary within his mouth, pliant lips tangling with one another. Your hand continued to drag itself along his cock, thumb idly flicking over the head of his length, bleeding warmth.

Your nerves burned with desire, every fiber of your being consumed by Jacaerys’s presence. You hadn’t felt such a kindly touch before — even your last spark did not bother to learn.

As Jace’s head began to tilt backward, his lips barely graced the curve of your jaw before he came, sudden and white-hot. His spend fell in hot tendrils against your palm, falling to his stomach in a glistening sheen.

He did not expect to come undone so swiftly, but it was the first time you had touched him in such an amorous manner. Half-lidded and dazed, Jacaerys attempted to recuperate, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Forgive me, I did not think to warn you,” He huffed, chest stinging with heat as he fought to breathe deeply again. “That was …” Words turned to ash upon his tongue, features painted with a delicate shade of crimson.

“Invigorated by the moment,” You mused, pressing a kiss against his cheek before crawling off of him, moving toward the basin of water on his vanity. “For one without experience, you do not act clueless.”

Retrieving a rag, you prepared to return to him — but he was at your heels. “Jacaerys?” The very picture of longing, looming beside you as his hand graced the curve of your breast, caressing towards your stomach.

“I want to taste you,” He rasped, his gaze practically begging for you to let him. Gently, he plucked the rag from your fingertips, cleaning himself off with haste. “Please.” Jacaerys groaned.

It was as if the fire within your belly burned thrice as hot, demanding to be extinguished with all its might. Your lips parted, fingers curling into the wood of his vanity as you pressed your thighs together.

Jacaerys’s lips descended upon yours in an ardor-laced frenzy, a groan stirring within his throat, hands immediately seizing your hips. Instinct drove him, desire renewed, as bright as your own flame.

You did not hesitate, reaching for him with a swiftness, digits tangling within his dark curls. He was a godly sight, laces of his trousers undone, visage flushed, earthy hues nearly black with desire. He hadn’t felt so strongly about someone before, anchored to you.

One could not mistake his passion for roughness — Jacaerys was gallant, a man of honor, and you suspected that being rough was not in his interest. Each clash of your lips left you reeling, dizzy with affection, flesh crawling with heat.

“I need you, so terribly,” Jacaerys whispered, filling you with a euphoric sentiment. Desperation crept into his voice, a resonance that was laced with yearning, a craving. “May I?” He was needlessly polite.

Wordlessly, your head bobbed up and down in a series of swift nods, teeth snagging on the inner skin of your cheek. He reciprocated with a kiss against your shoulder, and then to your collarbone, forging a path with his mouth.

Jacaerys only wished to map your flesh, to trace each curve as if you were a winding river — a river worth wading. His softened fingertips incessantly squeezed at your hips, gliding downward to seize handfuls of your haunches.

Each kiss brought forth a glow from you, interwoven with a myriad of throaty whines and whimpers. His confidence only blossomed from there, instilling a sense of pride within him as he kissed between your breasts.

“Jacaerys,” A sharp inhale ripped through your throat as he made his sluggish descent, savoring every inch of your body, skin like velvet beneath his tongue. “Do not torment me.” You hissed, aching for the embrace of his mouth.

It was you that dominated the current tension between you both, reaching for his crown of curls as you eased him downwards. Jacaerys obeyed, sinking onto his knees at your subtle instruction, kissing at your stomach.

He was at your mercy, peering up at you through thick lashes and flushed features, allowing you to take the initiative. You most certainly did, sluggishly guiding him toward your glistening cunt.

There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to oblige you, lips pressing all along your legs, mouth steadily finding the apex of your thighs. Jacaerys took care in spreading you apart, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt, your taste ambrosial.

A stirring fire of lust roused him, cock twitching within his breeches as he delved deeper into your core. His mouth was a thing of beauty, tongue sluggishly tasting you from your clit to your entrance.

Your chest heaved with wanton pants, hand forming a fist within his tresses, involuntarily tugging and pulling as you pleased. Jacaerys did not mind it at all, desperate to please you.

Tangled within his dark mane, you coaxed him closer, digits digging at the base of his skull. Jacaerys released a groan into your core, hands clamping down on your thighs with an ironclad grasp. Your nectar fell heavy upon his tongue, the sweetest of honey.

Jacaerys thoroughly delighted in the feeling of your hands within his hair, your hips occasionally stuttering and bucking forward, desperately seeking his mouth.

He was attentive, even for being a novice at the act itself, lapping at your cunt with a fervor. His plush lips drifted toward your clit, gauging your reaction to the sensation. You moaned, and that only seemed to encourage him.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit.

The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation. “Jacaerys,” You whimpered, dizzying moans spurring him on. “Gods, you’re doing so well, so perfect.”

The lascivious praise he received made him groan into your cunt, desperate for you to shower him in compliments. He flourished with your sweet words, comely visage happily buried between your thighs.

His eagerness was palpable through each flick of his tongue, lost within the oasis between your legs. Your thighs burned, desire making you hazy, mind clouded with nothing but him.

A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he showered your cunt in an alternation of steady licks to lingering ones.

The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. It was overwhelming, the stimulation — you very nearly collapsed.

Instead, your euphoria manifested as your climax, sudden and without pause, a rush of heat that spilled forth. Jacaerys groaned, continuing to lap at your cunt as if he were drunk upon it, prompting you to peel him off of you.

The sight of your betrothed on his knees before you, panting with exhilaration, chin glistening with your slick — it was a sight that you wanted to see again and again.

“That was incredible,” Careening your digits through the top of his scalp, Jace moved into your embrace, angling his face to kiss your palm. “You did wonderful — are you certain that this is new for you?” You mused.

Jacaerys blushed, yet held firm on his honesty. “It isn’t new anymore,” He chimed, wishing that he could have you like this all the time. “I wish to please you again, if you’ll let me. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

With a cheshire smile, you coaxed him up from the ground, pressing a string of kisses all along his collarbone and neck. He seemed quite pleased with it, holding you closer.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed into his skin, wordlessly guiding him to bed. You wanted to lay with him, learn his heart, more than you already had. As you settled beside him, he appeared beyond elated. “But there is still tonight left.”

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 𝐱 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞!

cw : MDNI - ftm Lestat, top male reader, sexual content, nsfw, lycanthrope male reader, oral (giving), AFAB terminology used (such as cunt, clit, ect.) monsterfuckers, mentions of knotting, praises, dry humping, slight service top moment, baby fever, breeding kink, not proof-read.

If vampires could exist, why couldn't werewolves, Lestat thought. When he found you, it was as if looking at a lost dog. Scrappy thing, but brutish. You had no manners, like a mutt out of the ditch. The two of you never met eye to eye, but he helped you deal with the monster that you had almost no control over. What he loved about you is that you took answers from no one. You took what you wanted, when you wanted it. And if you wanted Lestat on the bed with his legs spread, he could barely stop you.

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"You're making a mess down there mon cher, you're dr..drooling all over my legs!" Lestat laughed as you huffed and looked up at him from between his legs. There was slick and saliva dripping down your chin and painted messily on your lips, smeared against your cheeks and dripping down your neck. Your half lidded eyes were hazed with lust, trying to bide your irritation and hunger with the meal between the others legs. "Use your words, those looks could mean anything. You either want me to...shut up so you can continue indulging yourself or—" Lestat almost snorted as you responded with simply curling your arms around his thighs, letting them settle on your shoulders as you 'indulged' as he seemed to speak of.

Your thick tongue practically slobbered against his thighs, nipping every now and then while your leg bounced. You wanted so much more at that moment, but you were trying to wait it out. You were itching to get out of your skin, the presence of the full moon only pressuring your body further. You could feel the itch deep within the marrow of your bones, calling out. It makes your body feel like a furnace, your core even hotter. You could feel your hips rolling into the mattress below as you whined into Lestats' heat, causing him to shudder in response.

"You're such a needy chiot when you wish to be one. I don't know why you restrain yourself so much when I know what goes on in that head of yours." Lestat almost mewled out at the end of his words as your tongue practically circled around his dick, lips suckling against it and sending fire into his own nerves. "Juste là, ma chère, you're so good to me..." He let out an airy breath as his fingers slid into your hair. No matter how many times you cut it, it practically grew longer the next day. But Lestat? He loved running his fingers through your hair and watching you act as if you were touch starved. No, you were touch starved. Leaning into his touch, silently asking for more.

Lestat was the first person, first being, creature — the first to be able to handle your unruliness these nights. When you weren't prowling the streets, out for blood, killing every animal that came into your line of sight and even people if they had the unfortunate timing of appearing in your sights.

You were practically nose deep in Lestats' rather trimmed and neat blonde pubes while your tongue wanted to lap up every inch of his spongy insides. You could barely think straight, heat now radiating off your skin and your mind slowly fogging while Lestat made obscene noises that made your ears prick up. "Need you..Les..."

"You have me mon cher chiot, you..you have me," he shuddered out again before feeling your nails start to dig into his thighs. An animalist whine and whimper left your lips before you could feel the curse starting to carve you from the inside out. Cooking your insides, broiling in your stomach while it broke and wielded your bones back together. It wasn't pretty, it never was. But Lestat was there for it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

You let go of him and gripped onto the sheets, finding yourself wanting to curl up and hide from the pain. You could hear his coaxing in the forefront of your mind, trying to tell you he was still there, but lines blurred when you transformed. Your bones snapped and your flesh seemed to tear as fur came in replacement, your bones shifting into place as a deep growl rolled within your chest. The moonlight seemed to peer in through the window, your once normal eyes giving an eerie glow in the darkness, your face no longer humanoid, but instead replaced with a furry snout.

There was blood in your fur, almost coating some, bleeding into the mattress but the other didn't care and neither did you. Your clothes had long since been shed off since the beginning of the transformation, now scattered and torn into pieces.

You shook your head, thoughts jumbled in a bunch. Food. Hunt. Hunger. Prey. Hunger. Mate. Hot. Mark. Mate. Mine. You seemed to stare Lestat down, as if he were a meal of his own, your mawl filling with drool as your now semi bipedal body crouched over him, absolutely looming over his body. "I know you can hear me in there mon cher chiot." Lestat seemed to call out, his core finding more warmth seeing you in such a form.

You growled at him at first, though your eyes seemed to quickly glance down his body. Hungry. Mate. Breed. Mate. Hunger. Hunt. Prey. My mate. You weren't completely dumbed down, but the scent of Lestats' arousal seemed to set you off. It wasn't long before you practically dragged his body down, lifting his entire lower half off the bed before your maw opened.

Lestat didn't fear you'd eat him or even harm him, but he could see much more happening. When you got like this, it was hard to stop you from completely destroying the room trying to fuck him on every surface, especially since you didn't burn out easily during such a moon tranced state.

He could feel your teeth against his pelvis, only putting some pressure down as your tongue took a long lap against his lower lips. Pulling away, you grabbed his thighs and raised them on your shoulders, his entire upper body almost lifted off the bed from the shift of your height.

Lestat cried out and threw his head back the moment he felt your tongue dive into his drenched cunt yet again, reaching places you couldn't quite reach before and more. He could see your unsheathed and throbbing red cock underneath your own body, dripping with arousal and your knot having already appeared. "I suppose I should have fed earlier tonight if I knew I was going to be in here with you till daylight—"

There was a growl, a deep one that sent vibrations deep within Lestat, causing him to find a rather quick orgasm that startled even himself. "I guess this form also does things to me as well mon cher chiot, but it seems your mind is elsewhere." Instead of a response, you simply lapped at his wetness, hips rutting up against the sheets and your mind elsewhere. You wanted to breed him, badly. Make him full of your pups. What you wouldn't give to see Lestat, your Lestat, full and round and plump. Putting him down on your knot, making him yours completely? You began to drool at the thought that ran circles inside your mind.

Maybe you could fill him up tonight after you made him cum on your tongue. Your hunger was only for Lestat tonight, nothing more.

It was better than you constantly having held his hips and grinded up against him with any and every surface, whining and making small grunts rather than communicating with your words what you really wanted. It wasn't your fault that his ass always looked so nice in whatever he wore. Such a nice, grabable ass. All yours for the night.

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[summer-fire]

Bakend potato

[iwillbealwaysadreamer]

For years I've not known what a broiler is, and I've been too afraid to ask

Kind of assumed they were some strange mystical American thing that we just don't have.

Anyway I finally decided to admit my ignorance and Google it and

It's a fucking grill

I've spent years trying to picture some kind of unknown, unimaginable kitchen equipment and it turns out it was just a grill all along wtf

[luxxid]

precis – genshin men talking in their native language in bed. 16+ gentlemen – neuvillette (french), tartaglia (russian), diluc (german), al haitham (arabic) remonstrance – obv smut, 16+ , fingering, degrading in arabic (😃👍), i've linked the translations just click on em.

NEUVILLETTE x french.

"je t'aime mon amour." his hands find yours on the wrinkled sheets, fingers interlocked clinched as he plunged his hips against yours, his girth dragging over your velvety folds. slow and sensual were the two words you could use to describe how he made you feel right now. who knew the ludex of fontaine was so amorous?

"ne te cache pas de moi, ma belle sirène." he mumbled in a low growl, brushing away stray strands of hair present on your forehead while undulating his ambit into your glory. the only support you had were his ample muscles, which you held on to with every thrust.

every frown, every blissful sigh and every moan of his name a precious token of memory he cherishes. soft pants fall from his lips as he compels your legs to your chest in order to bury his length deeper. dithers and butterflies rafted in your stomach indicating your climax. your nails drew crescents into his toned back, engraving signs of pleasure into his back.

"je t'ai-t'aime." he groaned, broiling breath fanned over your lips, foreheads pressed against yours as he rolls his hips over your one last time before planting his seed deep inside your womb, unleashing a swarm of butterflies to uncoil the ribbon in your stomach. (oui oui baguette)

flopping down onto your chest, exhausted from your previous activities, his pristine hair covers most of your figure, his eyes array love, just love. soft kisses rain down on your neck, adorning many of the purple bruises he had marked before. his callused hands bedecked your waist, barely applying force as if you were made of glass. his girth was still buried into your heat, as if he didn't want to withdraw from the sedative serotonin.

"i love you too.."

TARTAGLIA x russian.

his arms slithered around your waist, his bistre hair splattered all around your shoulder as he latches onto your waist for support, his fingers dig up your ass, sculpting demilune shapes into the soft plush. he buckled his foot to grant him more leverage. your body weight was all amended to the male beneath you.

his soft groans vibrated in the stifling atmosphere, bobbing up and down on his stupefying dick. "ty menya tak khorosho prinimayesh, hm?" he breathed into your shoulder, his indurate hands restlessly tracing over your curves, bathing in the luxury of having you so close to him. your breasts quavering in front of him, a slinky smirk absconded over his face at seeing your zest plight.

your moans gradually started getting obstreperous, interminably quivering on his bulk. his hands pinned your ass, to the point it almost drew out blood, your whimpers and whine were like music to his ears. gosh, you made him feel so lascivious. his grip grew tighter, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as he murmured words of syrupy desire. his touch was like a fire, and you found yourself not wanting it to end.

"blyat' ty idealna." he groused, his voice raspy and bare. his cobalt eyes gulled lust and fire, you never ceased trotting on his cock with abandon, your head thrown back in sheer pleasure, your body shaking with every thrust. his hands were on your hips, guiding your movements, and you could feel every inch of him inside you. you let out soft happy grumbles of frustration, not knowing what he meant but you were assured it meant nothing other than love. archons- every hit to your nerves felt like celestia.

a bluffing beam pressed into his ephebic face as his cock obscured deeper into your warmth. your lamentations and sobs made him even more accelerated his appetite to taste you. what felt like clustered pieces of wires were coming out of you, your eyes gaped as you held onto his toned muscles, occasionally gasping and whining. he threw his head back revelry, his load whirled inside your womb as you let out a silent cry in the release of awaited feelings.

"moya krasivaya devochka" he chuckled as he adaged your rollercoaster of emotions, gentling brushing his hands through your hair, the sly smirk still remained pictured on his lips.

DILUC x german.

"ich liebe dich" he spituated, his arms grasped your shoulders ever so softly, beads of sweat dropped down from his sweltering face. a weary smile was forced upon his face, occasionally fading due to how well you sucked him in. your hands run over your body from over your belly to your waist to your mounds grabbing them as he slows down the pace of his girth.

you moan out as he starts rutting into you at a fast pace. the carmine haired male groans, tightly holding your hips for leverage and fucking his cock in and out of you. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. heat resides every corner of his body. he closes his eyes as he proceeds with his adoring actions.

"don't stop luc', don't stop" you whine, harshly tugging his hair while syncing with his body movements. a soft, hushed hum resonated from him. kisses ran down from your neck to your back. his incandescent hair ran down your chest, concealing it. fuck— you were so perfect. archons, everything about you was perfect.

the bed creaked along with his every action, his actions only bought pleasure- no pain whatsoever, your breaths and moans got faster and more louder. his girth hitting your g-spot more faster, the slapping of his balls against your warmth got faster and more searing before he finally releases his seed inside of you, as well as you cumming on his girth.

"i-ich liebe- dich" he scours, his arms still vested on top of your waist, all while his length is snuggled inside of your warmth. he sagged onto your chest, your heartbeat undulating against his own.

AL HAITHAM x arabic.

nirvana. the only word that you can use to describe how the akademiya's scribe made you feel right now. his fingers edged into your tepidity, ever so often toting more vastly. his digits were coated with your dowse, driblets of sweat coalesced on your forehead, though, the viridescent eyed male had no emotion, only pure amusement and lust in his orbs.

"waqihat qadhirat." he spat, his eyes darkening as he watched your contorting face, drool splattered all over your face, he stroked your clit with his thumb, impending his face closer to your warmth before proffering a prolonged lick to your folds, his soaked, acute tongue almost immediately earned a squalid moan from you, your eyes solidly sealed.

"haitham' more, please m-" a finger forcefully shoved down your mouth kept you silent."madha? turid almazida?" he nudged, a jiving grin swept across his face before diving into your toothsome. gosh, his tongue did wonders. his eyes averted to yours, breathing in your gaped expression, relishing in your fucked out face. his other callused hand held your waist steady, gripping it harshly to the point that his finger imprints were reflected onto your smooth flesh. pink and black scribbles clouded your eyes, fuck— you wanted more, way more, and he knew that damn well.

"ma bik habibi, turid almazida?" he inquired teasingly after taking a deepend lick of your delicacy, your grumbles and lewd mewls were like harmonic tunes. his sunken eyes glaring at your pitiful condition, a breathful chuckle escaped from his chapped lips. his tongue once more delved into your hole, in result of you gripping his pristine hair harshly, moaning and gasping at the assidissous revelry.

your heart fluttered in joyful anticipation, as you felt the knots untangle, your face betrayed a beaming smile occasionally faltering as he kept scouring your pussy inside out. the knurls and lumps soon came undone, squirting out your juices and sap onto his tongue, greedily licking it up. his lissom fingers still remained deep inside your delicacy.