#his name too absolutely adorable

[moonkit60633]

@animatronathon WHAT A GUY I LOVE HIMSO MUCH

the hockey gear, especially for a college town, is GENIUS. I didn’t draw them but I want screaming over his lil gloves

Also his makeup is ADORABLE I wanna squish his cheeks

[serpentface]

Hibrides and Brakul having the world’s saddest booze-fueled girl’s night, probably a few months before the start of the story.

Anyway here's an extensive rundown of their shared history.

Hibrides Uryashta was the eldest daughter of a chancellor of the imperial city-state of Erubinnos (his lordship Erub Uryashta). She was brought up with great privilege and security, but (like most daughters of noblemen) was destined to be used as a bargaining chip in a political marriage arrangement. She was taken from her friends and family and moved to the city of Wardin at the age of 16 to complete her pledged marriage with Janeys Haidamane, the failson of the trade magnate Haidamane family. Janeys spent about a week poorly attempting to behave like a husband, and then took the first excuse to flee and engage in a petty military campaign against raiders on the Yellowtail trade route. She found herself left alone in his villa for three years with only hired servants for company. She made a few attempts to break into the city's elite social scene, but was quite shy and failed to make any headway.

Brakul had just spent a year and a half in a bit of a whirlwind. He was brought into a skirmish at the behest of an allied clan, who had been raiding the Yellowtail route and now was under attack by combined forces of an enemy clan and Imperial Wardi mercenaries. He killed one of the mercenary commanders and was captured as a prisoner of war, but was spared at Janeys' behest (who fucking hated that guy thought it was awesome that he got killed with a rock) and was ultimately recruited into the group. He had a chance to go back home, but actively chose to deadbeat dad out on his wife and child to be with his newfound lovequest, Janeys. He spent a year and a half as a mercenary, bonded closely with Janeys and swore brotherhood with him, and was eventually brought home to the city of Wardin with him. He found himself in the odd position of being simultaneously scorned as a foreigner and 'heathen', and the legal kin of one of the richest families in the city (and effectively the secret male concubine of their only male heir).

It was in this context that the two of them met, with Hibrides now being 19 and Brakul turning 27.

The two were initially wary of each other (Hibrides was particularly put off by his 'heathen' status) but bonded very quickly, partly due to their mutual states of being unmoored from their old lives, but in large part being just a natural chemistry. They had a lot of common interests and enjoyed learning from each other. Hibrides introduced him to traditional verse poetry (of which she was very fond). Brakul taught her how to ride khait, and even gave her a gelding from his own collection as a gift. They became very close friends over the next couple of years and spent much of their free time together.

A big part of the dynamic was that both of them are gay in a cultural context where there is no concept of Being gay, marriages are usually arranged and always between a man and a woman, and having children is a societal expectation. Each of them began to see the other as an ideal husband/wife, ie "if I had to marry why couldn't it have been him/her?". For Hibrides' part, Brakul had all the traits she would want in a husband: he was a pretty good friend and easy to get along with, he seemed like he'd do an excellent job of fulfilling expected roles as a husband and father (she didn't know about the wife and kid for a while), he treated her as an equal, and, most of all, had no interest whatsoever in fucking her. They were both in a sort of platonic emotional affair, and grew to love each other deeply.

Hibrides was pretty quick to catch on that something was going on between Brakul and Janeys, and found it strange and offputting but ultimately none of her concern. Her husband only being interested in his sworn brother and leaving her to her own devices suited Hibrides just fine, and Brakul always just kinda being There meant she was living with what had become her closest friend.

The stable state of this Feelings Triangle began to change in the wake of the brilliant plan to get Janeys (gay) (probably infertile) children he could pass off as legitimate via a Brakul/Hibrides pregnancy. It was something all three agreed to as a necessity; it was already drawing scrutiny that Janeys and Hibrides had been married for several years without a pregnancy, and producing heirs is a societal expectation and a central point of an arranged marriage between wealthy elites.

It was especially critical in this case, given Janeys was his family's only male child and only hope of continuing the family line, given both his golden-child sister Faiza and black sheep half sister Couya were Odonii, and thus sworn virgins and would never marry. (There's also a level to this that Janeys was regarded as a complete disappointment by his parents, and his mother made damn sure he knew that his only value at this point was to produce a better male heir to inherit the business. So this was a big fucking deal to him, and to Brakul by extension).

This was also not a route any of them wanted to take on any personal level, least of all Hibrides. She consented to the pregnancy and everything it entailed, but it was inevitably a painful and distressing experience all around. She had never wanted to be a mother to begin with (though had long accepted it as an inevitability), and now found herself with an infant daughter, which only meant it would have to happen again (they needed a male heir after all). And it would be utter social suicide and a profound shame upon her if the child's illegitimacy was discovered, which only added to the stress.

To make things worse, her first pregnancy shifted the entire dynamic with her husband and brother-in-law/best friend. Janeys changed from completely indifferent to actively spiteful and hostile towards her, and things had become extremely uncomfortable between Hibrides and Brakul. It only got worse with Brakul (the only one of them who actually WANTS kids) (kind of haunted by skipping out on his first child) finding it unbearable to be so close to HIS daughter and having to keep up an act that she was not his own, having no direct role in the kids life. He desperately wanted to be a father.

Hibrides, who was going through a fucking lot, started to become vindictive towards him for his role in things. She resented him more than Janeys, because Brakul insisted he cared about her and would desperately try to pretend things were normal, while consistently siding with Janeys against her wishes, including in preventing her from getting a divorce. (His excuse is that the children's legitimacy would be interrogated in a legal setting, which Is likely and Would be absolute social suicide with very real consequences. But the real reason on his part is that if she got out of the marriage, he might never see her or the children again). Hibrides began to do everything in her power to prevent him from having any relationship with his bastard children, even in secret or under the guise of a relative. Sort of an “if I have to suffer to keep up this facade so should you” thing.

They had two children in a span of three years, two girls (ruh roh!) named Erubi and Livya. By this point, Hibrides and Brakul were both experiencing what we would now call Clinical Depression and Alcohol Use Disorder (especially in the latter's case). Hibrides started to have affairs with both men and women, which she was sure to be very obvious about to insult Janeys and Brakul, but was mostly out of loneliness. Brakul turned his complete focus to Janeys and started avoiding Hibrides entirely, in hopes that she would become desperate enough to be willing to make amends (shockingly, this did not happen, and the rift only deepened).

In the present, their relationship status is: fucked. Both of them do still love each other on some level, but this is probably beyond repair. What little time they've spent with each other in the past year is sitting around being miserable and getting plastered. And now Hibrides, Janeys, and Brakul are all forced into the public eye on the pilgrimage together, and with a third child on the way. So that's probably going to be everyone's problem.

[moeblob]

And then his husband enters his life and is like "do you have toe beans as a dragon? is that a thing? do reptiles have toe beans?" and Sascha looks at him like "I do not know the meaning of those words in that order..."

edit: ...I forgot my own OCs scar (now included)

[glaciem-draco]

There's really something amazing about this idea a lot of us have of Phayu being VegasPete's son/Venice and Prapai being KinnPorsche's son.

One of my favorite things fandom has ever done really.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

Russ Ballard producing Daltrey's album

1975 Interview

Russ Ballard has something special. Call it professionalism, the sure touch, luck, talent, a mixture of the lot if you like, but everything he's involved in seems to turn out pretty good, even when it's something completely new to him, like record producing.

When he was fourteen, he wrote his first song and sold it to The Shadows after having had the sense to demo it after their style. Having mastered the guitar and scored quite a bit of acclaim for his playing, he turned to keyboards and now nobody hearing him play would think he hadn't been brought up on them. Argent reached the height of their success when he was with them, he gave Colin Blunstone a monster hit with I Don't Believe In Miracles and now Ride A Rock Horse is enjoying considerable favour. Its producer? Russ Ballard! The man, wearing his customary shades, exudes an air of quiet confidence. He can afford to. He's well respected as a musician and as a writer and he's now in a position many people could envy. After all, a singer of Daltrey's calibre doesn't call up just anybody and say "How about producing my album?"! What is really surprising is that Roger should ignore all the established record producers in favour of Russ, who has only ever produced one album before in his life and that was the solo one he made after leaving Argent.

How did his new role come about? "Well, I worked with Daltrey on his first album, played a little drums and piano on it, but I didn't produce that one, just put in some ideas. He must have liked them because when he was planning his second, he just asked me if I wanted to do it." Russ explained. In an issue of Beat dated April 1966, Daltrey himself described his voice in pretty disparaging terms. "I don't have a good voice, no-one needs to tell me that. I'm a screamer with a group and I'm happy. I'm not worried about my voice, though, it is developing and I can notice the change." He also added "I'd get a real kick if I could have a proper girl vocal group backing." It's taken nine years, but now he's achieved what he hoped for, a voice which no-one can deny is pretty exceptional, and backing singers led by Marsha Hunt, care of Russ Ballard! "I was involved with everything." said Russ. "Going through songs with him, deciding what musicians should be used, who would be good for this and who for that." For a reluctant producer, who admits that "I'm not really into production, even though it's a creative thing, I'd rather be an artist." Russ had some pretty definite ideas as to his treatment of the album. "I deliberately kept his voice well up because in so many recordings I've heard of Roger, he's been immersed in sound. He's got such a powerful and such a good voice which contains many aspects that people haven't heard before. What I set out to do on the album was to expose all those voices for the first time. I don't think it is a good thing for a producer to put his own standpoint on an album, the most important thing is to project the artist." Russ thinks that Daltrey's film work has given a lot more confidence and he also found getting to know him has radically changed the concept he had of The Who. "Many people would imagine Daltrey as an ego tripper, but he's not in the slightest. Before I got to know him well, I was under the impression that The Who were Pete Townshend's baby. But speaking to Roger, listening to his ideas, I think that a hell of a lot of his ideas must have always gone into The Who, a lot more than people think."

It was originally Roger's idea to record an album of his early influences. Then he changed rock horses in mid-stream. "By then we'd already recorded Walking The Dog and that Beachboys sounding song, so we were lumbered with them." The second idea was to project the different sides of Daltrey's voice in a collection of mixed rockers and ballads, including three songs of Russ's, Come And Get Your Love, Proud and Near To Surrender. "We didn't actually discuss the point but I felt he wanted to make a heavier album than the one we'd originally planned. Yet not totally heavy, but a record which would compliment the heavier stuff with lighter stuff. Right from the very first session when he sang the first song I could see his voice was so much better, I feel it's improved tremendously since the early Who days even though I think he had a good voice in 1964."

The next thing to decide on was the overall sound and the arrangements. Ex-Shadows drummer Tony Meehan was the man who worked on these. "I decided to make the sound quite sparse,-" explained Russ, "- rather than over-producing it. Some people just don't know where to stop. I decided that if a song called for piano and nothing else, that's what I was going to do." (Hence Phillip Goodhand Tait's beautiful slow rocker Oceans Away with the composer on piano.) "The most important thing in an arrangement is the song. If it's a good one you should be able to sing it with no backing at all and it should still sound great. If it's not, no matter how many extras you add it won't work." Russ reckons that having been in bands himself definitely helped him as a producer, enabling him to put himself in the artist's shoes. Yet he doesn't think he'd like to produce his own next album entirely alone. "When I was in Argent I found being produced by somebody else was very frustrating because I could tell people were veering away from the original ideas I'd had for my songs. That's why I decided to produce my first solo album, which turned out a bit of a mixture because I had a backlog of work to get out of my system. My next album will be slightly deeper, not so light-hearted. I hope to be co-producing it with Muff Winwood, whom I really admire because he's got such a good ear and can really make a musical point."

At the moment, Russ is doing very well with songs of his which are being covered by other artists. One called Heartbreak, has recently been recorded by Olivia Newton-John and yet another is currently being recorded in L.A. by Stevie Wonder's band. Russ has got a new band together consisting of the ex-drummer from Curly, Alan Wickett, bass player Tony Lester and guitarist Alan Skates- "He really does!" joked Russ. He's got three weeks booked in E.M.I. Studios to get the album done. As for his producing career, it looks like Ride A Rock Horse may be his swansong. What if Roger asks him to produce his third album? "Well… if I want to do what I want to do, that is, sing, play, write and record, I just won't have time to produce anybody." said Russ. There's nothing like getting out when you're on top!

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[nonuggetshere]

PK letting some of his animalistic behaviours out whenever one of his children is endangered 👀

Doesn't even use his magic or weapons just goes straight to mauling in his rage

Truly animalistic appearance and noises, being on all fours (...sixes?) and with his mandibles out, snarling and letting out a growl that shakes the very ground they stand on

And then just as quickly he returns back to his upright stance and stoic demeanor, flicking his long tongue out to lick the blood around his eyes off and calmly asks somebody to clean the corpses up

I don't think FaaF PK might be the kind of man who would execute Xero when he was very clearly infected unless he thought he was a lost cause, ik that's what happened in canon but it's an AU so I think I'm allowed to change that. I've already made PV have a secret queer romance and have the fact they're not hollow be outed before the sealing, I think PK not wanting to execute a terminally I'll guy of not sound mind for treason isn't out of the question.

Unless one of his children got caught up in the crossfire, then his instincts would kick in before his rational brain would. And it'd be a much more violent and cooler way for him to go out. And although he's not proud of what he did, PK decides the damage has been done already, might as well show it off as an example of what happens to traitors. Robs a dead man of his dignity even post death because it's the more convenient option.

NOT canon compliant I don't think. Don't take this as my take of what happened in canon and how canon PK would react, I just think it's cool ✨️ I might absolutely turn back on this idea though I just like it atm

[emotional-fandom-soup]

I dont understand how some people can hate late season Neelix, like. Dude tried to check in on every crew member's background and remember their traditions and days that might be important to them. And when that didn't work with Belaana he literally offered her to use him as a doormat just so she can relieve some stress. How can you find him annoying instead of lovable?

[bitchfitch]

I'm finishing up the script for that lil comic about how Cadfael and Monty met and have officially decided to do that thing Elden Ring does where you can tell who's related to who based on their names but in a Much stupider way.

[tonycries]

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring. 

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?” 

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here? 

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was. 

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh. 

Oh. 

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees. 

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough. 

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet. 

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch. 

Oh, shit. 

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer. 

Absolutely nothing. 

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor. 

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later. 

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain. 

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you. 

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too. 

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you. 

But that was a conversation for another time. 

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring. 

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic. 

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.  

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was. 

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

.

.

.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right? 

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike. 

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school. 

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty. 

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega. 

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck. 

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark. 

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them. 

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired. 

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience. 

Like he was right now. 

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door. 

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha. 

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth. 

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud. 

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl. 

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty. 

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck. 

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?” 

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you. 

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it. 

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this. 

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two. 

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble. 

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face. 

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt. 

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits. 

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices. 

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one.  Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place. 

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl. 

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away. 

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?  

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum. 

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop. 

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping. 

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now. 

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…” 

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years. 

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt. 

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient. 

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face. 

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put. 

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it. 

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–” 

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-”  His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs. 

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin. 

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner. 

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe. 

Whether he doesn’t even want to. 

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too. 

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More. 

More, more, more. 

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside. 

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles. 

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick. 

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot. 

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived. 

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate. 

Even needier than you. 

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”   

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily. 

No. 

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over. 

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm. 

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face. 

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.  

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose. 

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot. 

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo. 

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed. 

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright. 

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth. 

That he’s made you squirt. 

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat. 

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace. 

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill. 

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant. 

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile. 

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive. 

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his. 

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic. 

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft. 

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two. 

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…” 

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin. 

Sweet and absolutely gifted. 

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing. 

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. 

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious. 

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s. 

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll. 

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue. 

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten. 

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper. 

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming. 

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more. 

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts. 

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect. 

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you. 

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit. 

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped. 

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were. 

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later. 

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish. 

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato. 

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously. 

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices. 

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours. 

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours. 

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound. 

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind. 

And that’s all he needed to hear. 

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune. 

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots. 

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly. 

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more. 

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too. 

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed- 

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting. 

Hard. 

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge. 

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other. 

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours. 

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting. 

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin. 

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience. 

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried. 

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards. 

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot. 

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls. 

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you. 

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously. 

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened- 

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tojbnuy]

by popular demand and since i hit 1k! here’s a part 2 💞 find part one here! art by @ _3aem on twt!!

bestfriend!satoru who always takes you on late night drives if you’re feeling upset. he’ll buy you something sweet and when he drops you back home he’ll always leave you with a little kiss. he doesn’t want his favourite girl being sad.

bestfriend!satoru who absolutely adores the way you smell. everytime he’s near you in class he places his hands out for some of your hand cream and he sits there sniffing his hands afterwards.

bestfriend!satoru who will always suggest a horror movie when it’s movie night with your friends. he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re freaking out and you’ll climb into his lap. ‘sshhh you’re okay baby i’ve got you’ and while you’re distracted his hands will find their way under your top and start stroking your back and tummy.

bestfriend!satoru who insists on massaging your back when you come round. ‘take your top off baby it’s just me’. he’s working on getting you to take off the bra too, all in good time.

bestfriend!satoru who is so used to you wearing long sleeved and baggy hoodies that the random times you wear something that clings to your figure he all but passes out. suddenly his hands are all over you and to everyone else in the room you probably look like a couple. (just how he intended)

bestfriend!satoru who insists kissing your best friend on the lips is normal. it’s cute. ‘come on baby another one. i’m your best friend’. is using tongue normal? he doesn’t care.

bestfriend!satoru who wears compression shirts around you all the time because he overheard you talking about how much you like guys with big biceps. he doesn’t want to sound big headed but he’s caught you staring a few times now.

bestfriend!satoru who goes through your underwear drawer when you’re not present. he wanted to know your cup size but the pink and the lace got him distracted.

bestfriend!satoru who really is such a perv when it comes to you. he can’t help it you’re like a drug. sometimes he knocks his pen off the table because he knows your sweet self will quicky bend over to retrieve it for him. he’s left with the adorable sight of your panty clad ass, white ones today just how he likes. ‘thank you baby.’ ‘you’re welcome toru.’ god you’re just so cute.

bestfriend!satoru who helps you dye your hair. he doesn’t care that he’s leaving with splotches of black on his arms and hands. it’s worth it when you give him those big hugs with your arms wrapped around his neck.

bestfriend!satoru who is in love with your handwriting. ‘course a pretty girl has pretty handwriting’ it’s all cursive and slanted, he even makes jokes about you writing something for him to get tatted.

bestfriend!satoru who knows you love to cuddle. he was never much of a cuddler himself but he would have to be sick to pass up on the chance to hold you. ‘no of course i dont mind pretty.’ your head lays on his chest and one of your thighs covers his stomach. he could die like this and he would die happy. (preferably he would die in between your thighs but)

bestfriend!satoru who gets upset when you’re laughing a bit too loud when talking to suguru. he knew for a fact suguru was not that fucking funny.

bestfriend!satoru who absolutely abuses pet names when it comes to you. His baby His pretty girl His dolly

bestfriend!satoru who’s always patting your bum. for what reason who knows.

part 3 !! part 4 !!

taglist : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @whozeurdaddy @sukuxna0 @purp1eha1o

[lokissweater]

DON’T HAVE TO GUESS

{yuta okkotsu x f!reader}

summary: yuta is the greatest boyfriend to ever grace this earth. one problem though? he refuses to touch you out of fear of making you uncomfortable or disrespecting you (no matter how bad he wants it). your pent up sexual frustration is at an all time high and you’re sick of him rejecting your advances, so you devise a plan to get him to crack.

content: MDNI. FILTHY SMUT, smut with plot, established relationship, afab!reader, pet names, references to alcohol and drinking, college party, cursing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), dirty talk, FERAL YUTA, oral, creampie, yuta is down bad for you.

word count: 5.8k

author’s note: theming inspired by charli xcx ft. miss billie eilish’s song “guess” !! MWAH.

if you would like to know the origin story of this au, you can read it here! but it can also be read without it :)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

yuta felt like an absolute freak.

ever since you both officially became a couple, he’s been the absolute happiest man alive and never ever goes a day without showering you with affection, kisses, and telling you how much he loves and adores you.

but behind that? yuta has a little secret.

and he is gnawing at the iron bars of his enclosure in absolute torture every time you do something, anything, that can get his little horn dog mind to imagine you in thirty five different positions on his bed crying out for him.

it doesn’t even have to be something you do that remotely resembles anything sexual, so on a day where you were sitting pretty beside him in the passenger seat of his car, the blood rushing to his dick at the sight of the seatbelt strap pushing in between your puffy boobs—

he knew it was bad.

yuta’s shamefully always thought about these things— even when you were both just on best friend status. but it’s harder now, much harder for him to behave because he doesn’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. he respects you so much and always treats you like pretty porcelain glass, delicately running his hands over your body and soft face when you share a kiss or an embrace.

so now whenever he feels his heart pounding against his chest, face boiling red, and the all too familiar feeling of the lower region of his pants maybe getting a little too tight because of you, he immediately removes himself from the situation to prevent from spazzing out.

the bad thing was— this happened practically every single day and nearly every other hour, to the point where it was blatantly obvious and you were completely and utterly confused as to why.

every time you stand up on your tippy toes to give him a sugary kiss, arms wrapped around his neck and yuta’s arms around your waist, the makeout doesn’t last for more than thirty seconds before he’s pulling apart from your lips with a smack!, walking away with his head down, hands tight at his sides, and with a lame excuse for his abrupt leave.

every time you accidentally drop something and bend over to retrieve it with yuta standing directly behind you— when you come back up and turn your head to face him, he’s already staring back at you with wide eyes, lips pressed into a thin line and cheeks flushed pink. you’d ask then if he was okay, to which he would respond by a quick nod of the head and a dash out of the room to leave for a moment… again.

he did it so much to the point where he eventually avoided touching you all together, and you absolutely hated it. yuta’s always been affectionate with you, he’s never not touched you, and on a day where you swung a leg over his lap to straddle him on his bed, eager to show him a little loving and a smooch— you had just about had it when he placed his hands on your hips as you were trailing your mouth down his neck, physically pulling you off his lap and leaving the room— muttering about god knows what.

until you noticed.

you and yuta were seated on your living room couch watching a movie, the both of you dozing off gingerly as his head was resting against your shoulder, undoubtedly exhausted after a days worth of college classes and homework.

you went to place a sleepy hand on his upper thigh, about to tell him that you both should move upstairs to your room and sleep, but when your fingers accidentally grazed his crotch area, yuta shot up like a light and startled you awake— eyes blown wide and frantic.

“whatareyoudoing—”

“yu! my god—” you placed a hand over your heart, chest heaving. “i was just gonna tell you that we should go up to my room and sleep.”

yuta’s shoulders visibly dropped, and he closed his eyes momentarily before licking his lips, exhaling deeply.

“h-oh my god—“ he opened his eyes again after regulating his breathing and looked at you with worried eyes. “fuck i’m sorry baby… did i scare you?”

you gave him a little nod and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders then, kissing your cheek and the side of your head apologetically. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i did that.”

but you did, and it was like a switch had gone off in your head, everything finally making sense.

every moment he would suddenly leave, or remove you from him when you tried anything, or every expression and reaction he made when you would wear something tight or short, all fell into place like a delicious puzzle piece.

so when he lead you to bed and cuddled you up innocently to sleep that night, you came up with a plan to test this theory.

you wanted yuta to crack.

unfortunately, your first attempt was a fail.

yuta had plans to take you out on a little summer picnic date by the beach, and when he arrived at your house and you texted him to come in and make himself at home in your room, you were absolutely giddy, fixing your dress and applying the finishing touches to your makeup in the bathroom.

you had slipped on a long, skin tight black spandex dress for the day— one that hugged every inch and crevice of your body like a vice, a mischievous look in your eyes as you ran your fingers through your styled hair before leaving, practically skipping down the hall back to your room.

the minute you came in, yuta’s eyes flew open.

“hi baby!” you greeted sweetly, walking over to where he sat at the edge of your bed and leaned down, planting a soft kiss to his blushing cheek.

score.

“h-hi.”

“do you like it?” you asked eagerly, doing a little twirl for him and mentally making sure to pop your ass out a little more in his direction. “i bought it just yesterday!”

“i.. i do, baby.” he squeaked, voice hoarse and mind in a full blown fucking panic when you took his hands in yours and ushered him to stand.

but he remained stiff as a board, arms glued to his sides and hands in tight fists as he looked at you, face strained.

you playfully rolled your eyes and took his hands, guiding them towards you. “you can touch me, silly. here— feel the spandex-”

and you purposely dropped his hands to land right on your ass with a smack.

yuta immediately inhaled sharply through his nose and choked, his face dropping straight into the crook of your neck to hide his delirious expression. yuta was biting the inside of his cheek so unbelievably hard that he tasted metal, his eyes squeezing shut as nasty thoughts flashed through his mind like a forest fire.

holy shit holy shit holy shit—

“f..feels nice,” he muttered into your neck, and you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your lips up to his ear.

“does it?”

you felt yuta giving in and slowly squeeze the plump of your ass, and he felt like an absolute fucking monster at the way he was feeling you up when in his eyes, you were just innocently showing him your pretty little long dress.

but just when you thought you had won, your smile wide with delight, he tore away from you and excused himself from the room with a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving you dumbfounded and defeated.

on your second attempt, you refused to accept defeat and planned more diligently than before, his tiny mess up from last time motivating and proving to you that your plan could bear fruit.

this day was particularly scorching, one of the hottest days of the year as you and yuta decided to get ice cream after one of his lectures from a shop down the street, an attempt at cooling off and escaping the heat.

you were sitting on a cute bench under shade just outside the shop as you waited for your boyfriend to come back, nervous and wearing a low cut baby doll top that showed a little more boob than you originally intended, but due to the circumstance at hand… the more the merrier!

after a few minutes, the door to the shop chimed open and yuta stepped out— two vanilla ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles delectably adorning the pair of soft serves in his hands. he carefully handed one to you and grinned.

“here baby.”

you took a cone from his offering hand gratefully and licked a little off it as he sat down.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly, and it made his heart skip a beat as you both sat there, enjoying the summer heat and each others gentle company.

without yuta noticing though, you had stopped licking your ice cream as he chatted to you about the things he had to do for the coming week, attentively listening to him as you patiently waited— the vanilla soft serve glistening under the heat and slowly melting, droplets oozing off the sides until one landed right on your tit.

score.

“oh!” you gasped, looking down and pouting, “i spilled someee.”

yuta quickly reached to the side and pulled out a napkin he had brought from the shop, extending it out towards you but faltering when you shook your head frantically.

“no! it’ll go to waste! and i can’t reach down and lick it off myself…” you huffed and looked at him with the cutest face he had ever seen you make… you smirking deviously on the inside. “can you lick it off for me, yu? please.”

you had said it so nonchalant, so casual like it was the easiest most normal thing in the world to do, but it had yuta’s body and mind freezing over as you scooted closer to him, waiting.

“h— huh?” he stammered, unable to take his eyes away from your tits, the sight of ice cream drooling down over them an image he wanted to tattoo behind his eyelids to look at forever— his cheeks bright pink.

“hurry! it’s gonna stain my top,” you whined, putting a hand on his shoulder as yuta let you tug him down, him ogling and literally gawking over your chest.

without another thought, yuta stuck his slick tongue out and slowly ran it over the top of your puffy tit just like you had asked him to, the angel on his shoulder screaming at him to stop as his tongue continued to trail up your chest and around your neck, your breath hitching in surprise.

the sound of your reaction broke him out of his trance and he flinched away from you, chest heaving and pupils blown out with the biggest pit of shame in his stomach, feeling like a fucking pervert.

but you, your shoulders evidently deflated in disappointment as you pressed your thighs together, trying to mend the buzzing ache between your legs as your mind thought over and over about what he did, something you didn’t expect at all, and something you wanted him to do again.

“let’s… let’s go for a walk, yeah?” yuta spoke quickly and gently to you, taking your hand that was on his shoulder and pulling you up off the bench, him confused as to why you had a frown on your face.

but for the third and final attempt, you were utterly and hopelessly desperate. every time you guys hung out, yuta was still the absolute sweetest and did everything he could to make you happy, yet he still just wouldn’t touch you, and it was driving you fucking crazy.

you were getting reckless at this point, your pent up sexual frustration sky rocketing with every passing day, but you were completely oblivious to the fact that yuta was dealing with the same form of torture.

except way, way worse.

it’s gotten to the point where just the sound of your sweet sugary voice over the speakers of his phone has him biting down on the edges of his pillow, arms wrapped tightly around himself and his body curled up into a pathetic ball of despair, his dick rock solid and his mind filled with thoughts that consisted of strictly just you.

so when you called him up and asked if he wanted to come with you to one of your girl friend’s parties, yuta knew he was one hundred percent fucked.

he wanted to keep respecting you. he wanted you to know how special you were to him and how serious he was about your relationship with him, and he sure as hell did not want you to feel uncomfortable because he was a horny piece of shit that didn’t know self control and wanted to have sex every five minutes.

except he was a horny piece of shit, has always been one over you, and yuta knew the second he saw you dolled up in your pretty little dress looking absolutely lethal, he was going to lose it.

and he did.

with his arms crossed over his chest and a tight hand over his mouth, he nodded and hummed out a series of “mhm’s” at everything you were saying as you finished up getting ready, his eyebrows pinched together in complete agony at the sight of you.

the pastel green glittery dress you had on was so criminally short that any inch of movement you made, the bottom of your ass cheeks would peak out from below the hem of your dress.

he slightly lowered his hand from his mouth. “baby?”

“yeah?” you responded softly and turned your body to face him, spritzing your vanilla coconut perfume over your frame.

“i-isn’t your dress— a little short?”

you put the perfume bottle down on your vanity desk and looked down, internally giddy that he noticed the length, your plan coming into fruition.

score.

“oh is it?” you tugged at the hem of your dress, scooting it back down. “does it look bad? i—”

“no no!” yuta’s hands shot out frantically as he shook his head. “you’re so so pretty baby, the most gorgeous little thing i’ve ever seen,” he took a few steps toward you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, being mindful of your perfectly styled hair that made him weak in the knees. “i just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night and not enjoy yourself.”

your heart melted at his words and consideration as you smiled warmly, eyes sparkling up as you gave him a cute peck on the lips and hugged him back, “you’re so nice to me, yu.”

yuta snorted but looked down at you fondly. “that’s the bare minimum baby.”

“so.” you peeled away from him and walked over to the bed to pick up your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder. “all i do is make you ham sandwiches after your soccer practices.”

yuta laughed loudly, “that’s all you do?”

“yup!”

he nudged your shoulder playfully with his, a grin on his face as he walked down the stairs with you and out the door to his car.

“brat.”

at the party, your plan was to be as devilish and flashy as possible, showing off every curve and angle of your body to your boyfriend in means of getting him to crack, and your ticket there was the length of your dress—

but more specifically?

what you had on underneath.

when you met up with the rest of your friend group that were all residing on the long lounge sofa in the living room like always, you grabbed yuta’s hand and led him over to join the rest of them. he politely greeted each and every one, keeping you close by the hip before you both settled down on the couch.

yuta wasn’t a big party person like you were, but he also didn’t particularly dislike them either. as long as you were there with him, he always ended up getting shit faced and having the time of his life with you and your friends, something that didn’t even happen when he went to parties with his own friends.

your closest girl friend that sat across from you at an angle turned her body, yelling over the music. “have you tried this?!”

she pointed to the red solo cup in her hand, and you shook your head.

“no! what is it?!”

“someone from the frat next door made a mix of malibu and pineapple rum! it’s really good here!-”

she reached over and offered her cup, and as soon as you stood to retrieve it, an idea popped into your head— eyes widening. without another thought, you moved over to stand right in front of yuta before fully and erotically bending and lunging over to reach for the cup.

he stopped breathing. he looked at the way your dress rode up literally half way up your ass and he stopped breathing.

it was so unbelievably high up that he saw the color of your underwear— a lacy black pair with little bows adorned over the sides like a present, slightly see through but enough to see the outline of your lower lips.

yuta clasped a tight hand over his mouth, but as soon as that happened he realized that whatever he was seeing, everybody else was seeing as well. including that stupid moron that had been staring at you since the moment you both got here.

in record time his trembling arms shot out and yuta grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it back down over your ass as he wrapped an arm around your waist tightly, pulling you back to sit on his lap.

you loved that he did that, but as you sipped the drink and chatted on with your friends, you were entirely unaware of the way yuta’s arms were gripped around your waist like a lock, his forehead resting on your back with his face hidden.

yuta felt like an absolute fucking freak again as the image of your puffy lower lips outlining your lacy panties flicked over and over and over again in his mind without a break. he felt so nasty, so shameful and so hard as he tried with all of his will power to calm his breathing and stop the bouncing of his right knee, eyes screwed tight.

holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck—

he needed you so badly, needed to slip that skimpy dress off of you and bury his face in between your legs, needed to slip his swollen dick out and grope your tits and pump his—

shut up shut up shut up—

at the feeling of his leg bouncing rapidly, you looked back and slightly turned yourself, confused at the sight of his hung head that was refusing to detach from your body and look at you properly.

you placed a gentle hand at the top of his head, the feeling of his silky black hair underneath your fingers. “yu?—”

his head snapped up straightaway, and your eyes widened as you took in the way his chest was heaving and his pupils were blown out, face completely red and his body practically shivering beneath you.

you frowned, “baby? are you okay?”

you shifted once more to assess him better, but his eyes only shot back down to your ass as he felt your dress rise up again.

such pretty bows…

yuta smashed his face in against your side, eyes screwed shut.

calm down calm down calm down—

it was almost completely dark in the frat house, colors of red and blue and green bouncing across the walls of the lower level as people drank and made havoc, your friends all caught up in their own inebriated worlds to realize what was happening between the both of you.

and at the feeling of his hardened cock against your ass, you slowly smiled and finally understood— your hand coming up to stroke his cheek lovingly, the act simple and innocent, until you took his hand from your lap and agonizingly dragged it further up and up and up your thigh…

shit shit shit—

until you guided his shaking fingers to the patch of wet in between your parted thighs, the lace material up against the pads of his—

fuck it.

yuta pushed you off of his lap and stood, snatching your wrist tightly before tugging and dragging you away from the couch and through the mass of people on the dance floor.

“yuta!” you yelled over the music. “where are we going?”

you were so confused, and you worried that maybe you had pushed his buttons a little too far and that now he was upset, and judging by the way he didn’t even turn around or respond when you spoke to him, it looked like that might be the case.

you gnawed at your bottom lip in concern as he led you both up the stairs of the house— you focused on trying to keep your dress from riding completely up and him opening and closing several different doors before he found what he was looking for.

yuta dragged you in the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him, his lips instantly latching onto your cheek, desperate wet open mouthed kisses dropping down to your neck and down to your chest as you gasped.

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—” he repeated like a chant, voice muffled by the way he was sucking on your neck like a little leech, his fingers looping themselves in the straps of your dress before pulling down and revealing your bare tits to him.

you were wholeheartedly gobsmacked at what he was doing and you were loving every single second of it, the way his wild eyes darted over your tits and his wet lips just about drooling over them.

“i’m gonna suck your tits,” his gaze shot back up to you, chest rising and falling. “okay baby?”

a fierce blush spread over your cheeks at his words, mentally cursing yourself for wanting this so bad but feeling bashful at the wrong freaking time.

you barely even nodded before he picked you up by the waist and set you down on the counter of the sink, his wet tongue darting across the plush of your breasts and pressing flat against your nipple, your breath hitching at the feeling.

yuta sucked and nipped feverishly at your nipples, getting them slick and slippery with his spit as he squeezed at your waist desperately, your pretty moans ringing through his ears making his bulge tighten and strain against the buckle of his belt.

he trailed his tongue back up to your neck and groped the fat of your ass with his hands, subconsciously rutting into your covered lips as he whined and groaned over the warmth of your pussy.

“i— i’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep going.” he puffed out, tone constricted as he looked at you with feral half lidded eyes.

you nodded quickly. “but i want you to, yu. inside me.”

yuta’s eyes blew wide open as he shook his head, and you felt the way his hands trembled while he gripped your hips.

“we— we can’t baby,” panting, he unwillingly pulled his bulge slightly apart from your warmth and looked at you sincerely. “i can’t do that to you—“

“do what?” you asked softly, tilting your head to the side. “make love to me?”

“no— well, yes?” he dropped his forehead to rest on your shoulder and placed his hands at the edge of the counter to support his weight, groaning.

“i don’t want you to think i’m taking advantage of you or— or not respecting you and i want you to know how serious i’m taking this relationship and—”

you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you, your voice sweet and soft. “who said that? i don’t think that at all yu, and i know you’re serious about us.. i wouldn’t be sitting on this counter with my tits out if you weren’t.”

yuta laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“you don’t wanna fuck me?” you whispered lewdly.

“trust me i do—”

“you don’t wanna see what kind of panties i have on under?” you pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck. “you don’t want to maybe guess the color of my underwear?”

“oh i don’t have to guess baby,” he shook his head and grinned. “i know.”

yuta buried his face in your hair and inhaled, “has this been your plan all along pretty? to be a little slut for me and show off what you got going on down there?” he snapped his bulge back on your pussy so roughly that you jolted up by the sheer force. “to get me to fuck you? hm?”

you didn’t respond, you couldn’t respond by the way he was running and groping his hands deliciously all over your body as he spoke nasty to you. all you could do was moan stupidly.

“lucky for you, i’m just as guilty.”

he pulled your straps back over your shoulders then while sliding you off the counter, tugging the hem of your dress down over your ass before opening the door and leading you by the hand outside.

yuta ran through the halls opening and closing doors again, the both of you laughing when you would find other people fucking or making out, until he finally found an open vacant room with a bed and slammed the door closed, locking it.

his lips smashed against yours without another moment wasted, you unzipping and pulling your dress up and over yourself as he yanked his shirt off and threw it fuck knows where.

pushing you down gently on the bed, yuta took a step back to admire your perfect perfect body, the way your tits bounced with every movement you made, and the way that god forsaken lacy black underwear made you look as he just stood there and stared.

you cowered a little under his gaze, legs closing and arms crossing over your chest. “what?”

he shook his head. “i love you… so much.”

you smiled bright then, pearly whites on display as you watched him reach down and fumble with his belt frantically, sliding it off and pushing his pants down before kicking them away and hovering over you until you were both entirely bare.

yuta pressed honeyed wet kisses all the way down your body and in between your legs, shoving his face to your clothed pussy and inhaling your sweet scent, moaning as he did so.

he was so freakishly hard as he licked a long stripe up, the fabric rough and wet under his tongue as you squirmed and whined, impatient and bratty.

“you taste so sweet, baby.” he groaned, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your clit, his index finger running delicately and slowly over your meaty slimy folds.

“fuck—” you panted, carding your fingers through his hair. “more please—”

“more?” he hummed, watching at the way you shook and shivered with his every touch as he slobbered all over your pussy like a man starved.

it was so filthy, squelching and sloshes of his mean mouth bullying your clit as your fingers flew to grip the sheets beneath you.

“eek!” you squealed, your thighs closing tight around his head as he ate, his hands coming up to force them apart.

“let me eat.”

yuta gripped the fat of your plushy thighs as his sloppy tongue moved across your lips and pussy, coaxing your syrupy cunt to pulse and jump with each lick, a knot forming at the pit of your tummy.

“i— yu, i can’t—” you tried to run away from his mouth. “i’m gonna cum—”

but he only grabbed your hips and brought you back down roughly, his rolling tongue lapping up your juices before your entire body shook with erotic ecstasy, your thighs clamping shut as you squealed and creamed on his tongue.

“fuuuucckkk,” he dragged out, coming back up and sliding your absolutely drenched and ruined panties down your shaking legs, his mouth coated and shiny and covered in you.

yuta pumped his cock a few times, and that’s when you noticed just how big he was, packing a meaty punch that had your mouth watering and desperate.

you spread your legs again as he climbed over you, sliding his dick in between your messy sticky folds before lining his fat tip against your hole.

god, yuta’s body and dick were on fucking fire, his tip slowly nudging and slightly stretching you, a pathetic whine leaving his lips at the feeling of your perfect pussy that was entirely his to fuck, a dream he’s had and yearned over for what feels like an eternity.

“m’gonna put it in,” he choked, licking his lips as he tightly gripped your waist.

you eagerly nodded, spreading your legs even wider. “please, i want you to fill me up, yu.”

and with that, yuta slowly and deliciously stretched your little cunt open, his swollen dick pushing past your tight squeezing gummy walls until he bottomed out.

“f—fuck,” he swallowed thickly. “you gotta loosen up baby you’re milking me—”

your hands gripped at his arms for support as yuta gently pumped his cock, your pussy sucking him up like a yummy lollipop and trapping him inside. “i can’t yu…” you shook your head. “you’re too big—”

his glassy eyes darkened over at your words, and he picked up a brutal pace almost instantly.

“is this— hah— what you wanted?” he reached out and pinched your rosy cheek meanly, pounding into your puffy walls as you cried dumbly. “to fuck you dumb on my dick after teasing me like that downstairs? huh?”

your eyes squeezed shut, loud pornographic moans tumbling out of your throat as he fucked you like he hated you, your tits bouncing with every hit.

a series of pat pat pat’s bounced all over the walls as yuta buried his face into your neck, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he shoved his dick inside of you over and over and over again.

“i can— hah— barely move you’re sucking me, baby.” yuta hiccuped, his eyes welling with feral tears.

it felt good, way too good and he could hardly handle it, his heart racing against his chest as he watched you make slutty faces that only fueled his erotic agony.

he fucked you full into the mattress, setting an animalistic pace as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly.

“s—slow down, yu!” you whined, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his tip hit your cervix without mercy, you on the verge of cumming and creaming all over his dick.

“no—” he shook his head and looked at you, your sweaty hot bodies sticking together. “m’sorry pretty i c—can’t—”

yuta hiccuped and whined and cried at the way your greedy pussy was milking him for all of his worth, his abs tensing at the familiar feeling of his release. the amount of times yuta fisted his cock to the thought of you like a pervert, just like this, spread out and pretty, didn’t even come close or compare to the real thing laying in front of him right now.

“m’gonna pull out, okay?” he muttered. “gonna cum—“

“nuh uh!” you whined, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist to keep him inside, your arms clutching his brooding shoulders. “i want you to dump it inside of me.”

“i— inside?!” he swallowed.

you nodded and smiled sweetly at him through your fucked out expression and puffy pouty lips, a sight he never ever wanted to forget in his life and keep the privilege of looking at every day, just for him.

yuta groaned again and shoved his face back into your neck, squishing your tits in his hands and holding on to them for dear life as you milked his cock, slamming his hips up to meet yours and you whimpering at how deliciously rough he was.

“mm— fuck!” you squealed as you felt yuta’s hot ropey cum shoot up your walls, bucket loads of it filling you to the brim as you felt your own orgasm wash over you, his hand pressing down against your lower tummy as he hiccuped against your neck.

you both grabbed on to each other as you tried to come down from your highs, your skin sticky and hot as his steamy breath fanned over your ear shakily, the booming of music downstairs shaking the walls a little and the sounds of footsteps walking down the halls filling your ears.

yuta gently peeled himself from you and slowly, delicately— pulled his dick out, his pupils dilating at the sight of his milky cum oozing out of you sluggishly.

his dizzy eyes flickered over to your dazed and tired face, smiling softly. “are you okay baby?”

you closed your eyes as he leaned down and brushed some of your hair away from your eyes, laughing a little. “yeah.”

“wait here—” he whispered before getting off the bed and walking over to what he assumed was the bathroom, retrieving a random towel.

coming back over, he tenderly spread your legs and cleaned you up, rubbing soothing circles into your ankles with his thumbs as he did so before plopping back down on the bed next to you, pulling you softly into his arms.

that was the first time you both had sex together, and as the fact registered into your head, you buried your face into his bare chest shyly.

“hm?” yuta looked down at you. “what, baby?”

“you’ve seen me naked now,” you muttered, voice faintly muffled.

he giggled lowly. “you’ve seen me naked now too.”

“your dick is big,” you leaned back a bit. “i can’t believe you’ve been keeping that thing hostage from me.”

yuta choked at your blunt statement and shook his head. “i’ve always wanted this baby, believe me.” he kissed your forehead and nuzzled his face into your neck. “i just didn’t want to disrespect you pretty so i just didn’t know if you wanted it like i did.”

“but i do—”

he laughed again, “i know you do, now i do.”

you smiled sheepishly as yuta caressed your back with his fingertips lovingly, feeling like he was at the gates of heaven with you in his arms after having shared something so intimate like that for the first time, something he only lived in his sleepy dreams prior to this moment.

“i love you, yu.” you mumbled against his chest, and his heart absolutely melted as he captured your lips in a sweet sweet kiss.

oh how he loved you, and the sight of your gorgeous naked body next to him, your breathtaking unreal face looking at him and only him with those eyes—

was something he wouldn’t trade for the world.

taglist <3: @turtlesaee @heretoreadfics

[chuluoyi]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

[jtownraindancer]

ohhhhh trust me.... i know.........

#hes so dad coded

[citrus-writing]

surrender to me

Thinking about how utterly humiliating it'd be to be forced to ride your yandere-

Tw: non-con, dub-con, extreme feelings of guilt and shame, reader is an active participant in their own assault 

--------------------------------------- 

It's bad enough when he pins you down to whatever surface is nearby, taking whatever he wants from you, forcing you to take whatever he gives you. It's bad enough that you're helpless to his advances, that he can so easily overpower you, use you like his own personal toy. It's bad enough that he fucks you so good, hitting that spot that has you nearly screaming, keeping up the relentless pace until your legs shake, and making sure you always cum at least once, though he always always tries for more.

It's worse when he pulls you on top of him. At least when you're underneath him you can say it's not your fault, that you have no hand in what happens to you.

But now, as you straddle his waist, his cock buried deep inside you, he tells you to "ride me, come on, just the way you like it" you feel shame wash over you. He's your kidnapper, he took everything from you, and now he wants you to be an active participant in your torment. Everything in your rebels against the idea, tells you to fight it, to hold onto your pride at any and all costs. But it's not like you have a choice, you know what disobeying him means- you've faced too many punishments to risk another.

Shame eats at you as you begin to move, hesitant and humiliated, but unwilling to disobey. You rock your hips, trying not to shutter with every drag of his length along your walls. You're so wet for him and you know he can tell. You close your eyes, you don't want to see the way he's looking at you, can't bare to see the adoration in his eyes when you fuck yourself on his cock and he can't help but whisper that you're "such a good girl for me".

You hate that it feels good, that even your leisurely pace is making you bite back moans and fight the urge to ride him harder, to make yourself cum, and to feel him cum too. He grabs your hips, guiding you to pick up the pace a little, and you curse that he knows exactly what you like. He knows just how to guide your movements to make you tremble and whimper as he fucks you, he knows exactly what will have you moaning and gushing around him. He knows exactly how to make you his perfect little whore.

It's too much- the absolute misery of the situation is more than you can bear. You're riding your kidnapper, moaning and crying out for him, feeling your orgasm creep up on you too fast. It’s humiliating in a way that nothing else can compare to, nothing he’s ever done to you has been quite so potently horrid. 

You can't tell if he's still forcing your hips into the rhythm or if you've given into it, can't really tell if he's thrusting up into you or if your just bouncing on his cock that hard- but you're so close, and he feels so good inside you, and you want to cum so bad. You should be fighting this, but you’re not. You’re rocking your hips against his and whining his name and begging for more. 

"Gonna cum?" He asks, voice a little bit teasing but mostly breathless at the way you move above him and the way you feel around him. He tells you all the time that he loves you, that you belong to him, that he’d do anything to keep you all to himself. In moments like this, it’s easy to believe that. You nod, desperate for release. "Go on, then,” he encourages, moving his hips against yours to meet you halfway as you move. 

You do- with a desperate cry of his name you feel your orgasm wash over you, crashing down on you and you can think of nothing else but his length filling you up, hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out so wide. It's so dirty; knowing you threw away all your morality and pride for this- you let yourself be used by man you should hate just so you could get off, you practically begged him for it. 

Because no matter how your mind tries to convince itself this isn't what you want, your body knows this is exactly what you want. 

---------------------------

[severepink]

Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.