#i love her and i want this skin but its too much

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

General Sevika Headcannons

Sevika x Female Reader (Fluff)

Content (w): You’re horny in like.. once? Angst at the end, but its short.

Proofread || Note: I didn’t mean to disappear, writers block got to me :( Kinda short and this is, a tiny bit, rushed.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Random

Big on whistling. Does it when she needs your attention, when she’s checking you out, even when she’s teasing. She likes seeing the look on your face. Especially eye rolls, do one with a face and she’s giddy.

Insanely good at Sudoku. She picked it up a while back when Silco taught her the magic behind the numbers. Now, she’ll challenge the old man and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose while she’s smiling smugly.

Loves when call her, or anything that belongs to her, cool. She likes being cool. That’s probably why she lets her cape fly off during fights.

Hates her glasses, mainly because they lack functionality, but enjoys seeing you thirst over them. She’d going blind and you’re over here drooing over her, she loves that. And, just for fun, she’ll wear a turtleneck; which, gets you hornier than ever.

Expression

Is she good at being romantic? No. She’s never had someone to be.. soft with. In a way, you’re the first person she’s ever opened up to. Be it letting you know her interests, her dislikes, her favourites, or just small, “not so very tough” things about her. However, she’s only just getting used to those things.

Flowers is all Sevika really knows. On her way back from her backbreaking job, she’ll grab you a few flowers from the market or straight up pluck one she randomly saw and surprise you.

Not so good with words. That woman doesn’t have a clue on how to comfort you. Why? Because she’s never been in a situation where she’s had someone talk her through her problems. Where she’s been able to let slip an ounce of vulnerability. Tragic, but she’s learning.

Things she does that she doesn’t realize

Stares so much that, before the two of met, it scared you. You thought you were her next target and lived in fear for the next week or so until the woman, finally, decided to talk to you. And, after a few months of dating you finally brought it up. She denied it at first but, when she caught herself staring at you a million more times she came clean.

“I was only appreciating you.” She brings it up so abruptly that you’re confused, “what are you talking about?”

With a sip of her whiskey, she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Nothing..”

Her grip’s a little too hard. Her flesh fingers always end up digging into your waist whenever she’s trying to keep you close. Your girlfriend never noticed it until you had to talk to her about the slight redness she had left on your skin. And, for the next week, Sevika brought home boquets of flowers— not the cheap kind— every day until you told her you forgave her. (You didn’t know she wanted you to say so.)

So sassy that you sometimes have to take deep breaths in order to not tell her off. It’s not on purpose, she’s just so used to having that tone. One time you thought she was pissed at you when, in reality, she was just trying to find the next row for her Sudoku round.

Snores loudly. Jannah have mercy on your soul because that woman will not stop snoring for the love of her life. You’ve tried giving her different pillows, different positions, anything and everything, but nothing seems to work. Somehow, over time, you found a way to fall asleep with her deep snores beside you, even though, sometimes, you want to smack her in the face with a pillow.

Dislikes/Hates

Being ignored. Sevika will, quite literally, go insane if you ever give her the silent treatment. She’s not used to being treated like she’s not there— hell, she’s one of the most respected woman in Zaun, why would she be alright with not being acknowledged? Just to get back at you, she’ll annoy you until you break. Chewing loudly in your ear or shaking you up by heavily sitting on the couch beside you, she’s determined, and she knows you know that.

Her own overthinking. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t know why you still stick around with all her problems. Even the risk of you being in danger, because of her, makes her stay awake at night, she doesn’t want to lose you and she hates how her mind needs constant reassurance that you want the same thing. Even though she rarely says the amount of doubts she has, she’ll hit you with this look that only you can read. It’s a silent need that you, happily, provide. Murmuring soft words she’ll end up being embarrassed about later.

The saddest one of them all: her face. :(((( Seeing herself in the mirror makes her feel a sense of shame that she’s never fully able to verbally express. It’s the scars that make her feel self conscious, the wrinkles on her face that makes her groan, the masculinity of her jaw that makes her question herself. But, luckily for her, she’s got this amazing girlfriend, you, who will reassure all her problems away. You swoop in when you hear how quiet the apartment has gotten, follow behind her and give her a few looks of awe and comment on whatever she needs you to. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and she’ll melt. Smiling like some teenager while looking away in embarrassment; in that moment, she’s thinking about how lucky she is to have you with blush on her cheeks.

[wonderhomeland]

You know

Simon doesn't talk about how he feels. Like nothing. Even things like being hungry. Not even in a friendly conversation with his teammats.

he just deals with whatever it is.

And that's inspiring for other. In his line of work, there's no such thing as relying on someone.

rookies like it, want to be like him.

Independent, strong, capable, reliable, with a cool aura.

But little does they know, that when their big, scary Lieutenant is with his girl, he acts like a little baby. turns to her for the smallest things and stares at her as if she can read his mind.

It was hard for you at first, whatever happends he doesn't say anything.

He just... Stares.

And not with a frown or anger in his eyes or anyting to let you know that he is mad, happy or sad.

It took a long time for both of you to figure out how to get along. Well actually, you were the one who was trying cus appareantly simon doesn't think that he might be the problem. He expected you to underestand every singel meaning of... whatever he does.

You learned them tho, after years. Read him like a book. Like a mother who is aware of all her child's reactions.

He doesn't want to talk about them, ... but he enjoys that you understand everything. He loves the feeling of you being so close to him and understanding him. and you do. you enjoy the fact that he trusts you so much. That you are the only one who understands the reason and meaning of his actions.

So people don't think for a moment that they were doing something wrong when Simon's head turned quickly towards you and stared into your eyes.

Aww... look how much he loves her.

And his calm experession tells you that he whants to kill them.

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

Always imagine Simon to be the perfect man, but lately he is just... too perfect, the man he is, its just nah his charactar is problematic. He is a man after all (I want this man to crawl under my skin), so I tried to think of what toxic behaviors he might have. Must be closer to reallity for me but you do you, its the only place we can be delusional😔

Forgive me if there's any problem , it's 1am here ,english is not my first language and I haven't studied anything for my tomorrow's test HAHAHA.

Tnx for reading my shitty thoughts<333.

[insomniakisses]

Omggg how would omega r x omega Leah work?? Regarding to mating and claiming (that would be so cute staphhh ) I can only imagine the sass from Leah and the fact her purs sound deeper like an alphas would probably make omega r feel more safe

I can just imagine omega Leah constantly whisking away HER you heard .. H E R omega so the alphas are shit out of luck

The nest would probably be the cutest blend of masculine and feminine with two poutty omegas with swollen lips & covered necks

Omega!Leah x Omega!Reader General HCs

Meeting -

Obviously we know how they met, i did that small drabble but

Rs first day

She has scent patches on

Everyone thinks Leahs gonna be stand off ish and mean because she’s used to being the only omega at arsenal

They think she’ll be possesive of the alphas

But the second R comes in shes huffing over not being able to smell her

Grumpily tugging R to the nest and ripping the patches off to sniff at her and get her scent

Immediately deciding R is her mate now

Soft nest sex and cuddles after

Getting together -

They got together after the nest sex and cuddles

R sleeping in Leahs chest as leah held her so so so soooo close

Nibbling at your neck till her teeth break skin

It’s harder since shes an omega

But her teeth are sharper than a regular omega so she manages

Biting deep and flooding R with her venom and marking her as Leahs

This makes R very vulnerable and Leahs on high alert growling at anyone who passes by the door as R purrs deep asleep

When R wakes up Leah is ready for round 2

More messy sex and needy kisses

Then R has to really try to break Leahs skin to bite her mate mark

Once she manages Leah lets out her purr

She gets so shy and tries to stop it because its deeper and more rumbly than it should be

But R just kisses across her face and neck till Leah cant help purr and she compliments her

Telling Leah how safe her purr makes her feel and then purring RIGHT back

The two inseparable from then on.

Heats together -

Heats are hard being a couple of 2 omegas

There’s only so long they can go with just fingering, oral and tribbing

Their Omegas making them crave a knot

Its just their biology

If either wants one of the alphas then they just call

Sometimes they all come over if requested

Often the two just use toys.

Leah gets a knot toy

Its one of them straps that go in the wearer too

Both ends have the ability to knot with a click of the remote

They both vibrate too

Just the two if you taking turns using that and cum everywhere

Just needy messy sex and biting

Your heats lasts 2 weeks if theres no alphas so your all needy and sore by the end if it

Wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Nesting and mate stuff -

The two of you share a nest

Both at home and at the training grounds

Both of you just huddled together nuzzling and purring

Leah often nests more than you

She just sits in the pile of blankets till u find her pouting at u

Or if u take too long she’ll waddle out with a blanket around her from clear on her face and growling and shoving everyone away till she finds you

Then your being tugged away by her as she grumble “Mine” or “nest time now”

She often tugs you away from people

Bc ur hers not theirs

She hates the others around u

Hates when u smell like alpha or spend too much tike with one.

She needs you thats why

She didn’t know she was missing something till she met you

Now she can’t live without you

Your her baby and she’s yours

You guys have soft bonding time

Cuddles, soft sex, bathing

She loves bathing with you and washing you in her soaps so u really smell like her

And she uses yours ofc.

Just a soft, needy possessive baby that loves you more than anything.

She just wishes she could get you pregnant and have the family she wants with you naturally without the beed for all the medical stuff

[kissesz]

𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

warnings: see above. mdni. angst. f!sub!reader. dom!caitlyn. mean!caitlyn, just briefly. cunnilingus. tribbing. vaginal sex. non-sexual intimacy. read: kissing. a lot of it. sapphic debauchery at its finest. arguing. emotional hurt/comfort. mentions of injuries & blood but not too graphic.

notes: (can be read as a standalone, part II of 'all that glitters') a oneshot—which, clearly, it isn’t anymore. i may have made a promise about making up. unfortunately, the dialogue is subpar at best, perhaps because i genuinely dread writing anything involving communication (which is why i attempted—only half-successfully—to compensate with overly long descriptions). on top of that, i’ve rewritten this at least a thousand times, meaning six and a half hours were spent agonizing over every single paragraph. i digress. i love you all, dearly.

Aged whiskey scorched a trail down your throat, amber liquid catching glimmers of the kaleidoscopic hues painting Piltover for Progress Day—sapphire hues of hextech glinting off effervescent fireworks, swirling and bleeding like watercolors through the fractured prism of your mind.

Or perhaps that was the alcohol, settling leaden in your veins as you draped yourself against the balcony railing. 

Revelry echoed distant and muted from the streets below, laughter filtering through as if from ripples underwater. Each scintillating burst a reminder of her, salt in wounds unhealed—nights of bare skin illuminated by those same lights, susurrous promises you'd been foolish enough to believe. Skin and sweat and lies, impermanent.

So naive.

The crystal tumbler in your hand caught light, throwing fractured rainbows across your fingers. Watching them dance, you tried (and failed) to focus on anything but the ache that had made its home in your ribcage months ago, a persistent throb that no amount of liquor could numb.

Then, a knock cleaved through the silence like a gunshot.

Your heart seized—a pavlovian response so violent it stole the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping. Two strikes against solid wood, precise, just like the woman behind them. 

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed to the empty air, fingers tightening around the railing until your knuckles blanched white against the dark metal. After months of absence, after countless nights spent aching and alone, after everything—she had the audacity to return?

The knock came again, more insistent this time, the sound like a second heartbeat, out of sync with your own yet impossible to ignore.

"Open the door." Caitlyn's voice, muffled yet unmistakable in its authority. That voice that had once whispered such honeyed poison against your skin now felt like sandpaper against raw nerves, abrasive and unrelenting. "Please."

Your laugh spilled out bitter, a broken sound for a broken moment. "Or what, Officer? You'll break it down? Add that to your litany of things you've destroyed?"

Silence stretched between you—taut and ready to snap. Then: "I'll wait all night if I have to."

"Go ahead." The drink seared going down, a familiar burn doing nothing to thaw the frost in your veins. "You're good at that, aren't you? Waiting until the perfect moment to walk away?"

More silence followed, heavy and sticky as molasses. For a moment, you thought she'd left, until you heard it—the soft thud of something solid against wood. Her forehead, perhaps, resting against your door as if she couldn't support her own weight anymore, as if the burden of her choices had finally become too much to bear.

"I deserve that," she said quietly, her voice carrying a of vulnerability you'd never heard before. A hairline fracture in her usually impenetrable facade. "I deserve all of it. But please... let me explain."

"Explain what?" The words clawed their way from your throat, each word tasting of copper and acrimony. "How you used me? How you'd come to me in the dead of night, take what you wanted, then vanish like I meant nothing?"

"You were never—" Her voice splintered on ‘never’, the sound slitting something in your chest, a fissure spreading through the walls you'd built to keep her out. "You were everything to me. That was the problem."

The crystal glass shattered in your grip, a startling crack that echoed the something rupturing inside you. Shards scattered across marble tiles like fallen stars, blood and alcohol—you couldn't tell which—dripping from your trembling fingers. The pain felt distant, secondary to the storm of emotions threatening to rend you apart.

Your feet carried you to the door of their own volition, possessed by a desperate momentum that overrode any semblance of self-preservation. The handle felt unfamiliar against your palm as you wrenched it open.

And there she stood.

Caitlyn Kiramman, in your foyer, like a washed out black and white photo of a deceased relative you couldn't bring yourself to look at. Her uniform was spotless as always, every button polished, every crease perfect—but her eyes—her eyes told a different story. They widened at the sight of your bleeding hand, that familiar concern suffusing her features before she could conceal it.

"You're hurt–" She reached for you, her fingers extending with such tender intent that it made your chest constrict, your heart stuttering behind the cage of your ribs.

You recoiled as if scorched, spine colliding with the wall behind you with a dull thud. "Don't." Your voice emerged raw, stripped of all pretense. "Don't you dare pretend to care now."

"Do you hear yourself? How ridiculous you sound?" She advanced, her presence flooding your space like smoke, cloying and suffocating. The scent of her, vanilla and gunpowder, so achingly familiar, made your head reel. Or maybe that was the blood loss. The whiskey. Turning everything soft at the edges except for her, sharp and impossible to ignore. "Not once, for a single second, did I stop caring. I left because I cared too much, because it was destroying me. Every time I chose you over my duty, every time I let my heart overrule my head, we were—"

"Oh, spare me the noble sacrifice bullshit, Caitlyn. Your precious integrity, right? Let me remind you of what you said: 'You know where I am if you need me.' Do you remember that? How you kissed me goodbye like it wasn't the last fucking time?" A dismissive sound tore from your lips, acrid.

"Enlighten me," you continued, voice quavering in a way that made you want to claw the weakness from your throat, "in all those months, all those nights I spent alone, where exactly were you? Because I needed you. Gods, I needed you every single day! And you were nowhere to be found!"

"It wasn't—" she started, but you cut her off, unwilling to hear whatever justification she'd made up for her absence.

"Shut up." Your palm struck her chest, leaving behind a bloody handprint stark against her pristine uniform. The fabric drank it in like it had been starved for it, marring perfection with your pain. Some bitter part of you relished it, wanted her to wear your anguish for once.

Hands caught your wrists then, a grip gentle but resolute, like you were something fragile, something invaluable she was afraid to break.

The calluses on her palms, from her rifle, from years of relentless training rasped against your pulse points. "You think it was easy?" Her voice trembled, her composure fracturing like a teacup on the verge of shattering. "You think I wanted to walk away? To lie awake every night remembering how you taste, how you feel, how you cry out my name when you—"

"Stop." You tried to wrench away but her hold was unbreakable, fingers branding your skin with unspoken apologies, with pleas for absolution. Your heart battered against your ribcage, that traitorous organ that still raced at her proximity, even after everything.

"Why?" She surged forward, and suddenly you were pinned between the heat of her body and the unyielding wall, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

Her breath ghosted across your face, expensive brandy chasing crisp mint—she'd been drinking too. She'd been drinking too, and that realization struck you like a knife to the sternum, twisting viciously. "Because it hurts? Because despite everything, you still remember? How I'd touch you, how I'd make you beg, how you'd unravel for me like you were made for it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, even as your body responded to her, muscle memory overriding reason.

"You did, darling." The endearment dripped from her lips, sweet and searing like honey on a spoon. Her face was a hairsbreadth from yours, close enough to count the individual flecks of navy in her eyes, to feel the heat of her breath mingling with your own. "Countless times. And I remember every single one. Every sound, every sigh, every way you fell apart beneath my hands."

Your breath hitched, catching on a breath suspiciously similar to a sob. "I hate you."

You did, truly.

Hating her felt natural, instinctual.

"No." Her thumb skated over your bottom lip, coming away stained with the smear of your lipstick. The tenderness of the gesture was devastating, a brutal reminder of everything you'd lost. "You wish you did. Just like I wish I could stop loving you."

The confession hung between you like a noose, tightening with each shallow breath.

"Why now?" Your voice cracked, splintering, jagged and razor-edged. "Why come back after all this time?"

"Because I'm tired," she breathed, resting her forehead against yours, the contact like a livewire against your skin. Her skin burned feverish against your own, her breaths labored. "Tired of pretending I don't need you. Tired of walking past your building every night, aching to come up but telling myself I shouldn't. Tired of being half a person without you."

Closing your eyes, the nearness of her was overwhelming, intoxicating; it made you dizzy, memories crashing over you in waves—lips on your throat, hands on your hips, her voice in your ear whispering vows she couldn't keep, oaths she'd shattered like porcelain against stone.

"You broke me." Words falling from your numb lips, more honest than you'd allowed yourself to be since she left, since she carved out your heart and took it with her.

"I know." Her lips brushed your temple, a benediction and a curse. A tear—yours or hers, you couldn't say—slid between your pressed skin, salt and sorrow. "Let me put you back together. Let me try."

"How?" You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze, stripped of all pretense. Your fingers itched to trace the circles beneath her eyes, proof that maybe she'd been haunted by your absence just as viscerally as you'd been ravaged by hers. "How can I ever trust you again?"

In lieu of an answer, she kissed you.

Not like before—not with the practiced restraint of Officer Kiramman, the consummate professional. No, this kiss was desperate, woozy and salty of mingled tears. Her hands cupped your face like you were something hallowed, her thumbs sweeping away the evidence of your shared misery, your shared sin.

Kissing her back, it bordered on violence, every shred of hurt and longing poured into the crush of your mouths. Your fingers knotted in her hair, yanking hard enough to sting, needing her to feel even a fraction of the agony you'd endured in her absence. Silken strands twined around your fingers like they'd been waiting for your touch, like they remembered every time you'd gripped them in ecstasy rather than anguish.

She gasped into your mouth, the sound caught between a moan and a whimper, apology and plea tangled on her tongue. "I'm sorry," she murmured between bruising kisses, each word a fervent promise falling from kiss-swollen lips. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I never stopped. Please..."

You bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough to taste blood of her own, the metallic sting a twisted sort of penance. "Prove it."

Her eyes met yours, understanding dawning like the sun cresting the horizon. With deliberate, measured movements, she began to strip away her armor. Her utility belt hit the floor with a leaden thud, bullets rattling in their clips. Her badge followed, the metal making a mournful sound as it clattered against marble. Then her uniform jacket, each button slipping free of its mooring until the garment slid from her shoulders like a remnant of a past she was shedding, a chrysalis giving way to something raw and new.

Each piece of her fell away until only Caitlyn remained.

The woman behind the title, the beating heart beneath the badge. She stood before you in her crisp white undershirt, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen her, her chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths, her eyes wide and shining in the low light.

"I'm yours," she said softly, her voice replaced by something fragile and aching. "Just me, loving you, for as long as you'll have me."

You stared at her, this woman who could command an entire city with a single look yet now trembled beneath the weight of your gaze. Who could stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching yet now looked at you like you held the power to destroy her. Who had walked away from you once yet now stood before you offering her heart, her future, her everything.

"If you leave again..." you started, the words tasting like rust on your tongue, sharp and metallic.

"I won't." She stepped closer, her hands finding the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, relearning curves and planes she'd once mapped in the dark, in stolen moments that now felt like lifetimes ago. Her touch sparked wildfires in its wake, your skin remembering her, craving her, even as your mind screamed for self-preservation. "I can't. Losing you... it nearly killed me. Let me spend the rest of my life making it right. Making us right."

You knew you should’ve resisted, should’ve made her work harder for your forgiveness, for a second chance at the heart she'd so carelessly shattered. But then her lips found that spot just below your ear, the one that made your knees buckle and your breath hitch, and all rational thought fled, replaced by an all-consuming need, a hunger that had gone unsated for far too long.

Her hands relearned your body with admiration that bordered on worshipful—each touch an act of contrition. Her fingers caught on scars she'd never seen before, on new edges and angles wrought in the crucible of her absence, but she didn't shy away. Instead, she traced each one like a devotee tracing the lines of a sacred text, committing them to memory, etching them onto her heart.

"I missed you," she breathed against your throat, her voice cracking on the admission. "Missed this. The way you melt for me, the way your pulse flutters beneath my lips." To illustrate her point, she pressed a lingering kiss to the hammering beat at the base of your throat, smiling against your skin as you failed to bite back a whimper.

Her name fell from your lips like a benediction, like a curse, like an invocation of something bigger than both of you. "Caitlyn..."

She pulled back just far enough to meet your eyes, and the naked adoration in her gaze stole the breath from your lungs. 

Gone was the stoic persona, the enforcer of the law. In her place was a woman laid bare, stripped of all pretense. A woman whose eyes shone with unshed tears and unspoken promises, whose hands shook with the force of her need, her longing.

"I love you," she said simply, the words rusty from disuse but no less true for it. "I love your fire, your strength, the way you never once made it easy for me. I love the way you see me, all of me, even the parts I try to hide. I love—"

You swallowed the rest of her words with a searing kiss, your hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt, dragging her closer until you could feel her heartbeat against your own, a desperate staccato that echoed the racing of your pulse. 

She caught you as you swayed, strong arms banding around your waist, holding you up, anchoring you to her as she'd always done, even when you insisted you didn't need it, didn't want it. "Let me take care of you," she murmured against your lips, the words akin to a plea. "Let me show you how much I've missed you, how sorry I am, how I—"

"Show me," you demanded, the words scraping your throat raw with their urgency. "Make me believe you."

The sound she made was part growl, part whimper, animal and anguished. Her hands glided down your sides to grip the backs of your thighs, fingers sinking into yielding flesh, and then you were airborne, your back hitting the wall with enough force to rattle the abstract art piece hanging beside your head. Your legs locked around her waist on instinct, muscle memory overriding the part of you still screaming for restraint.

"I'll spend forever making you believe," she vowed, punctuating each word with a press of her lips—to your jaw, the edge of your lips, the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. "Forever proving that you're it for me, that I'm done hiding from this, from us."

As she carried you to the bedroom, her steps never faltering despite the tremors wracking her frame, you realized with startling, terrifying clarity that you wanted to let her. Wanted to give her the chance to piece back together the remnants of you, to rebuild from the rubble and ashes she'd left behind. 

A tangle of limbs and discarded silks draped upon the edge of your bed held nothing new, freshly washed sheets tousling as she haphazardly lowered you into their embrace. 

And then, she was on you, her hand sliding up the apex of your thigh, teasing.

Finally, finally, her tongue met the barrier of your underwear, the fabric the only thing separating you from the heat and wetness that promised heaven. She took her time, tracing every inch of you, biting and nipping, until you were writhing beneath her, begging for more. And then she pulled them down, your hips lifting off the bed to accommodate her, exposing you completely to the cool air and the burning heat of her gaze.

Her mouth followed the path of your underwear, leaving a damp trail of kisses as she descended. She hovered above your clit for a moment, her eyes searching yours for permission, for reassurance. You gave it with a nod, and she took it as the invitation it was, her tongue flicking out to taste you, to show you without words how much she'd missed this, missed you. 

The sensation was foreign in its familiarity, your entire body tensing before relaxing into the bliss she’d coaxed from you, licking and suckling, driving you closer to the edge with every pass.

And then, with a lingering kiss, she pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. Deja vu, perhaps? "Take these off," she ordered, her voice thick with desire, gesturing to her own pants. You obeyed, your fingers fumbling with the zipper, eager to feel her bare skin against yours. When she was finally naked, she straddled you, the wetness between her thighs pressing against your stomach, leaving a damp heat that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Her hands roamed your body, touching, everywhere, and you watched her, breathless, feeling your desire for her swell until it was a living, pulsing thing between you. 

When she reached your breasts, her caresses were feather-light at first, teasing your already-sensitized nipples until they were hard points of pleasure-pain that had you gasping. Then, she took one into her mouth, her tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh, her teeth grazing the tight bud, sending skitters of desire straight to your core.

As she worked you over with her mouth and hands, each touch, each kiss, each lick brought you closer to the precipice. Your hips bucked against her, seeking more, seeking everything she had to give, needing to be filled, to be claimed by her again. You reached down to guide her, impatient (if it were another time, she’d make a show of rolling her eyes), fingers curling around hers, to show her where you needed her most, and she took the hint, sliding down your body, aligning herself with your aching sex.

Her hips rolled against yours, the friction building until you were both heaving and desperate. The world narrowed to just the two of you, the slick slide of skin on skin, the gasps and murmurs of pleasure. You felt her love in every stroke, every touch, every shudder of her body as she took you higher, until you were both teetering on the brink of oblivion.

The feeling of her was exquisite, the pressure just right—coiling tighter and tighter, until you were both ready to shatter. Your nails raked down her back, leaving red streaks on her skin, and she groaned into your neck. The sound sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you like a storm at sea. She followed, her hips stuttering against yours, her own release a hot, wet rush that mingled with yours, until you were both spent, limp and trembling in each other's arms.

Perhaps there would be no gold at the end of this, no sunset-fade and happily ever after. Perhaps you'd end up right back here again someday, bleeding out on memories gone septic with neglect. Perhaps you'd lose as much as you'd gain, in the end.

But what a thing it was—to be shattered and scattered, to cut yourself open on the fractured pieces and trust that the other person would help you staunch the flow of injuries after. To hold your own heart in your hands and decide that theirs was worth the risk anyway, every time.

So you sealed your mouth to hers and poured yourself into the spaces between, the cracks and scars and fault-lines cobwebbing you both. Let her lick the hurt from your teeth, suck apologies purple-dark into your skin until you couldn't tell her contrition from your clemency.

And later, when you laid tangled up in sheets that smelled of sex and forgiveness, her head pillowed on your chest and the ghosts of your names still ringing in the rafters, you thought that maybe this was a new breed of faith.

To believe, against all evidence, that you could piece each other back together. To know that you'd never be what you were before, untarnished and golden all the way through—but that maybe, just maybe, there was something rawer and realer and infinitely more precious to be found in those broken places.

To reach your hand between each other's ribs and hold tight to whatever you found there, battered and bloodied but beating still. Whispering: I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you enough to stay.

I love you enough to bleed.

I love you in ways only the shattered know how to love.

I love you, and all your splintered edges.

I love you, and the way you carve yourself into me.

I love you, and I'll spend every breath I have left proving it.

I love you, and that's the best and worst thing I know how to do.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

©️ kissesz

tags for the lovely sweethearts who requested a continuation: @prettyyyy-girl & @hiroklaiz

[ryiju-muunie]

Hiii!! Could you do story where Sanji is dating reader whose old partner only prioritized their own pressure and sanji does the opposite? Reader isn’t sure how to process it and tries to do something for him but he won’t let them

“S-Sanji.. I insist!” You blurted out, closing your legs as fast as they were pried open. Your boyfriend stared at you with wide eyes, lying before you on his stomach. Sanji’s hands were on your knees, bringing them down and to the right to better see your face. Not one had you ever rejected his advances.. and he wasn’t sure if you were rejecting him now.

“Let me do something for you.. you always do this for me.. why can’t I .. uh..” You felt yourself look away awkwardly, “Do this for you?” Your fingertips kept on the hem of your top, running against the fabric. It was soft and comforting. Something to ground you as you tried to push back.

It wasn’t that you hated how Sanji prioritized you, no, it was the opposite. You loved it. You adored how he would fuck you like you were the only woman alive. And you adored how he would lavish your body with his tongue. But you felt spoiled. The kind of spoiled that you heard about in unfair relationships where the woman got it all and she sucked her boyfriend emotionally dry.

Were you sucking him dry? Well you weren’t literally, as he never let you pleasure him— that was just it! Were you somehow pushing him to put you above all else? You didn’t want that… even if it was nice. Nicer than anything you had ever experienced.

“Darling..” Sanji began, smoothing your legs out so they rested against the bed and by his left shoulder. He hiked your joint knees over his shoulder and spread apart your legs, much to your protest. But he didn’t lean in to kiss your core, he, instead, rested his head against your clothed mons pubis.

“I like doing this,” he looked from you to your underwear, then back to you with a small smile, “Unless you don’t like this, I don’t see anything wrong with this.” His nimble fingers began to trace up and down your thigh, circling around the bone that your underwear laid atop of. You could feel him begin to inch his digit underneath the cloth— so you caught his hand and removed it slowly.

“I like.. it..” You began with hesitation growing in your voice. It was only then that Sanji shushed you.

“What is ‘this’?” He raised a curly brow.

“You know…” Your hand let go of his and he slowly snaked it underneath your underwear again.

“No, I don’t know..” His voice was soft as his face began to lower toward your core. Sanji scooted himself back on the bed and rested his right cheek against your left thigh, letting his left hand slowly touch along your bush.

You swallowed, “Cunnilingus..?” It was embarrassing to say. You didn’t want to refer to the act as what it was because then it would be real. It would be real that Sanji prioritized you too much and you couldn’t let this power imbalance stay any longer.

“No,” Sanji exhaled and leaned away from you. The warmth from his face left a small tingling sensation, but it was soon replaced with his hand spreading your thighs further apart. His hand underneath your underwear used its position to slowly guide off your panties, as he continued, “I’m worshipping you. Every single time I do.. this I’m worshipping your beauty. You’re like.. like my goddess. Least I can do is pray to you, right?”

A small blush formed at the base of your cheeks and bloomed against your temples, “Uh-huh..” Your voice was small and smitten as Sanji lifted your legs to take your underwear off and toss it gently to the side.

His hand ran up your pubic bone toward your stomach. Softly he applied pressure to let you fall back against the cushion, and you complied. You let your back hit the bed and you let his mouth plant a kiss on your core.

It was soft kisses that he laid against your skin— against your folds. Slowly his tongue came out of his mouth and licked circles around your entrance. Sanji’s fingers came and pulled you apart to get a better angle to worship you with.

This wasn’t fucking.. this was worshipping.

You pressed the back of your hand against your open mouth and whined. It was hard to keep the noises back when he knew how to fuck you every single time, exactly like it was the first time all over again.

Sanji ate you out like you were his last meal— like you were the best tasting thing in the planet. You were his world as he licked a stripe up your cunt and relished in the slick pooling around in mouth.

“S-Sanji..” You gaped when he hit that perfect spot. When he licked circles around your folds and when he nibbled at your labia with his teeth.

“Yeah?” He breathed out against you. One of Sanji’s hands came up to rub against your clit, caging it between two skilled digits and fucking you like the princess you were.

“K..Kiss m- a-ah.. kiss mmm.. me..” It escaped your lips too fast, coming out as a cry rather than real words strung together. Your boyfriend nodded his head and pulled himself up to smash his mouth against yours. He kissed you quickly; he kissed you passionately. He kissed you like his life depended on it. Every ounce of his life depended on making sure you were pleasured in every way imaginable.

You could taste your wetness on your tongue, you could feel Sanji’s hand slowly slipping two fingers inside you, and you could feel how much he loved you through every touch.

Maybe that’s what caused the pleasure to get intense and pool at the base of your pussy.

Maybe that’s what caused a burst of intensity to flash through your lower half and release from your honeypot onto his hand, letting him slowly sink his fingers further to touch that perfect spot.

“G-God.. A-Ah~” You sobbed, pulling from the kiss to wrap your arms around his neck and breathe in gulps of air.

Every time without fail.. Sanji knew how to worship you. And you let yourself like it fully without shame.

Strawpage | Bluesky | Ko-Fi

[thatonetargaryen]

No Tears Ricochet

Sevika x Reader

Alternate Ending of: My Tears Ricochet

Synopsis: After you catch your wife, Ambessa, in the act of ruining your marriage—you decide to visit the Last Drop for a release. Or, in other words, drowning yourself in alcohol. However, a certain woman suggests that there are better ways of relieving yourself.

cw; afab!reader; mentions of infidelity; alcohol consumption; rough sex; face riding; strap use; biting; Sevika is a warning as a whole…; not proofread; men and minors dni

Special thanks to @hell0-ki55y for original prompt. Hope you enjoy! 🎀

…….

You looked at Mel from across the room as she powdered and sprayed her face. She had just got done comforting you for an embarrassing amount of time after what her mother, your wife, Ambessa had done.

Never in a million years would you think she’d do something like that—to you. The vows you had taken before the preacher all those years ago started blurring years ago. However, it seemed they had finally started to deteriorate.

The paramour Ambessa had perched on her lap flashed in your mind. She’d probably purchased the twink from some underground brothel in Piltover. The brothels there were very secretive, and you’d have to get through a few people to even access one. However, the ones in Zaun were out in the open, and anything but secretive.

Zaun. The thought of the place sparked a thought in your mind. It had been years since you visited the place, and from what’d you heard, the place had just gotten worse throughout the years.

However, one key thing that stuck in your mind was a bar. You couldn’t remember the name, or where it was, but you remembered the feeling. The atmosphere, the smiles and warmth everyone shared, the strong taste of the ale on your tongue. And, right now, you craved a little bit of warmth.

You were pulled from your thoughts as your step-daughter laid a hand on your shoulder. Her smile was soft yet cautious—as if the slightest move might break you.

“I’m going to see Jayce now. Are you sure you don’t need me here?”

You nodded your head as you grip her hand in yours. “I’ll be fine, Mel. I might go have a little bit of fun myself.”

Mel’s eyes widened a little bit. She gave you a sly smile, “Well, you better pick up your phone if I call you.”

You playfully pinched the skin on her forearm, “Oh, hush. I am a woman grown. But if you call me, I’ll pick up.”

The both of you shared a laugh, before you pulled her into your arms for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. “Be safe, my love. And don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Mel leaned into your embrace, catching the underlying meaning in your words. She internally rolled her eyes, but heeded your advice. “You too, Mum.”

And with that, she threw her purse on her shoulder and walked out of the room. You sighed at her absence, but the feeling of her warmth would soon be replaced by someone unexpected—yet welcomed.

…..

The streets of Zaun were alive and buzzing at this time of night. It was no doubt dirty, and you could smell the fumes through your mask. You pulled forward the hood on your head, and held yourself tighter.

The place hadn’t changed much since when you’d last visited it. The air was still muggy, and the people were still as rude and selfish as ever, not that it was any better than Piltover. At least people here had a reason to be like that.

Your eyes darted around you. You surveyed anyone and everyone closely, not wanting to get caught off guard.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you were finally met with the neon lights of the place you walked far and wide for, The Last Drop.

You stepped inside and you the first thing you noticed was the heat that circulated throughout the place. The smell and alcohol, drugs, and sweat evaded your nose and you grimaced.

The bar across the establishment was calling your name, and you answered its call. You got comfortable in one of the beat-up black leather chairs. It was a little wobbly, but you didn’t mind it.

The man behind the bar worked tirelessly as he dried and shined the glasses. His skin was tan and his dark brown eyes moved skillfully as he made the drinks. It was a stark difference from the man you saw just years prior—his skin lighter and his frame even burlier—but you didn’t dwell on it for long.

The two of you made eye contact, and he immediately turned and made his way to you. “So, what can I get you?”

You hesitated for a second, your mind short-circuited. You saw no sign of a menu anywhere. “Um…what do you have?”

His eyes darted at your words, noticing your slight accent. Despite where you were originally from, living in Noxus for over twenty years heavily influenced how you sounded today. Especially since you had to speak some of the language almost daily.

He looked at you skeptically, “We have whiskey, beer, wine, y’know….what a bar would usually have…”

You were slightly taken aback at his words, not expecting to be talked to like that. You didn’t remember when someone had given you that much attitude—given your position and the power you hold. And who your wife was.

Your wife.

The thought of her churned your stomach like spoiled milk. Your mood dimmed as the thought of her came to mind. You cleared your throat after an awkward moment of silence, “One shot of whiskey, please. No ice.”

He nodded. “Good, cause’ we ain’t got ice anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at his words as you watched him fill a shot glass with whiskey. The bronze liquid poured into the cup gracefully, and you were momentarily distracted by the sight of it.

The sound of the glass gliding across the table and towards you broke your trance. You nodded at the bartender in thanks, but he didn’t acknowledge it as he moved on to the next customer.

You studied the drink for a moment too long, internally not trusting it.

“You gonna babysit that shot all night?”

You looked up from your drink at the sound of a rough, yet calm voice. You were met with a tall, muscular woman with low, dark eyes. Her jet black hair was pulled into a messy bun behind her head, and her black lips were pulled into a sly smirk. She was gorgeous, yet her physique told you she was a force to be reckoned with. You straighten up, trying to make yourself appear less fragile, but the effort only seemed to amuse her.

You turned back ground in your seat, attempting to ignore her presence. But her eyes bore into the side of your head like lasers, and you fight the urge to kick her wear it hurts.

“So, what brings you to Zaun?”, she asked.

Your breath hitched. How’d she know you weren’t from here? You’d dressed in the most dingy and boring clothes you owned, hoping nobody would notice who you really were.

She noticed your surprised look and scoffed, “Oh, you didn’t think throwing on some raggedy clothes would make you look like one of us, did you? I could smell the Piltie on you from a mile away.”

You rolled your eyes at her remark, and before you could think about what you were about to say, you spoke, “I’m actually from Noxus, thank you very much.”

The woman’s smug look turned to one of surprise—and soon realization—as she recognized your voice. She had seen you before, representing Noxus and your original house in a meeting held in Piltover’s walls. You had defended Zaun’s independence and had buildings rebuilt, ones that were once invaded and destroyed by Enforcers. Your name was spoken in Zaun with great recognition, yet suspicion all the same, not knowing your true intentions.

“Y/N?”, she spoke, almost in a whisper.

Your lips clamped shut as you held your coat tighter. You mentally slapped your forehead.

Her once smug smile returned again, “Hm. Seeing the wife of a warlord was definitely not on my bingo card for this week…”

You sighed in annoyance, wishing she’d just go away. “Look, it’s been a long day. I just came here for a release and a good drink. I don’t have time for—”

“A release, huh?”, she interrupted.

You stopped, taken slightly aback.

Her smile widened as she finally took a seat right next to you, “Next drink’s on me. Name’s Sevika by the way.”

…..

Sevika threw you against the wall, and the throbbing in the back of your head was quickly replaced with a large, rough hand cradling it.

Sevika’s lips crashed into yours with an intensity like no other. Your tongues fought for dominance, her ultimately winning. She grinded her body against you, and her heat radiated from her body to yours.

She picked you up, and you wrapped your legs around her. She broke the kiss by roughly pulling your head back, your hair tight in her grip. “Eager, are we?”

You didn’t respond, and instead pushed yourself against her, hoping the friction would quiet the ache in your stomach.

She threw you against the hard mattress, and didn’t waste any time tearing your clothes from your body.

Your nipples hardened as they were met with cold air, but you made no move to cover yourself. You knew you were beautiful, and you relished in the way Sevika studied your body in awe.

She chuckled, “Not too bad…”

You smirked back, studying the way curly hairs enveloped the space between her legs. “Not too bad yourself.”

The humorous mood was quickly replaced with tension as she reached over for something—a strap. It was thick and lengthy, but surprisingly didn’t look cheap. The material was solid in her hands, and she worked with the skill of an expert as she fastened the harness to her hips.

She spread your legs a little further and scooted herself closer to you. The lube in her hands loosened as she studied the way slick covered your walls and entrance. “Looks like I won’t be needin’ this.”

She plunged two fingers into you, and wasted no time as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at a steady rhythm. Your hips bucked towards her.

She leaned down towards you, and her plush chest pressed against yours. Your moans grew louder with each digit she added. Sevika nibbled at the sensitive skin on your neck, and the coil in your stomach tightened.

Her pace became more hurried and erratic, sensing you were close, and she rubbed the strap against your clit, earning a groan in her ear.

You released yourself with a sigh as you came on her fingers, the wet sound enveloping the quiet room. Your moans quieted as you calmed yourself from your high, sweat dribbling down your face and chest.

Sevika rose from your chest as she looked down at you. She lined her strap up with your slick, loose entrance, and placed a hand on your hip to keep you steady. The two of you locked eyes, and she smirked, “You good?”

You nodded your head sluggishly, “Yeah, yeah…”

Sevika hummed in approval, and in one swift motion, thrusted herself into you. You hissed at the stretched, but the slight pain flew by as she started to move in a steady pace.

Her hips moved back and forward as she thrusted into you at a relentless pace, and your moans bounced off the walls.

She leaned forward, and you wrapped your arms around her shoulders. You moaned into her bare shoulder as the smell of her musk evaded your nose.

The sound was wet skin hitting skin made you clench around her, a tears clouded your vision as you stared at the ceiling.

You dug your nails into her back, drawing blood that caked beneath your nails. She groaned at the action, the sound echoing through the room.

“S—Sevika—”, you choked out as your legs curled around her.

You could feel her smirk as she pressed her nose into your shoulder, “Hm?”

Your nails dug deeper into her back, “I—I’m close—”

Her thrusts became deeper, and she slowed her pace as she pulled at your hair from the root. “That’s it, shit—”

You came with a moan as your back arched against her. You could see the way she bit her bottom lip through your blurry vision.

Your moans quieted as she chased her own high, her thrusts refusing to stop. She kneaded one of your soft breasts beneath her hand, her fingers ghosting over your nipple.

She came with a grunt, the last few of her thrusts harder than the last. She threw her head back as she tried to catch her breath. She brought a hand up to her hair, running her hands through it. Sweat glistened her toned body, the valley of her breasts heaving with every breath. You took a moment to admire her beauty, in its rawest form.

She slowly pulled out of you, and you slightly winced at the motion.

You sighed in relief as you raise up, though you were careful not to move your numb legs.

You whispered as you spoke, “Thanks…I needed that.”

Sevika smirked at you, her tooth gap slightly showing. “It’s nothin’. I didn’t have anything better to do tonight anyways…”

You smirked back, “So, how much do I owe you?”

She was taken aback by your comment, but ultimately went along with the joke as she smiled, “It’s on the house, babe.”

……

I’m finally done with this 😭

I’m sorry it took me so long to post, college has been kicking my ASS left and right. I’ll be updating the Wolf and Dragon series later this week.

Hope you enjoyed 🎀

[kawoala]

Hi Meeya !!! Congrats on 900 followers <3

I’d love to get the hq mattsun burger !!! with a party side and a best friends to lovers drink <3

Thank you !!! For delivery infos i am available via phone :)

SLEEPOVER; matsukawa issei. burger—haikyuu. drink—best friends to lovers.

contents mattsun smokes. drugs & alcohol. college au. yukie shirofuku, oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro mentioned . reader is not fw heavy with the party.

authors notes this is more like. friend of a friends to lovers, so uhh sorry! i cant stick to prompts for the life of me apparently. also the ending kind of sucks, but i was trying to get this out today so……

if you’re going to be honest, this sucks. your head is pounding, your whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and there are far too many people around you. now, you love your friends, but that doesn’t mean you have to enjoy the things you do for them.

case in point: coming up with and hosting yukie’s 21st birthday bash. in theory, a nice gesture. in practice, a fucking nightmare.

you’ve heard probably three different crashes of glass—things that you’ll have to replace, of course, you know for a fact that your bathroom door is broken—because you watched three boys carry it out the front door as they held it above their heads, and there’s a pair of sneakers hanging off the ceiling fan. 

you want everyone gone. but. yukie is having fun. she’s smiling and laughing and drunk off her ass and she’s enjoying herself. she’s surrounded by all of her favorite people and you can’t want everyone gone because yukie is having fun.

you’re zoning off at the table covered in beer bottles and small, empty bags when you distantly hear someone call your name. you look up, glancing around until someone catches your eye. it’s yukie, smiling widely at you.

“can you,” hiccup, “go get more drinks? they’re,” giggle, “uh, down in the basement. thanks, y/n-ie.”

you want to roll your eyes, but instead you smile and nod. you stand up quickly and maneuver your way through the crowd of people. the basement door is supposed to be locked, but of course it’s cracked open when you get to it. ynis time, you do roll your eyes as you make your way down the stairs, shutting the door behind you.

almost immediately, a shiver runs down your spine. it’s colder down here than it is upstairs—but that could be from the lack of body heat coming off of everyone.

you get to the bottom of the stairs, where the fridge sits, but just before you reach for the handle, you stop. the back of a messy head of hair sitting on your couch, facing the TV. he brings a hand to his mouth and a cloud of smoke follows. you blink a couple times, in complete disbelief.

how are you supposed to react to this? he broke into your basement to sit down here by himself and smoke? you look around and notice that everything looks good, like nothing has been touched except for the couch. he didn’t steal anything? or, he hasn’t yet.

“dude,” your voice cracks embarrassingly as you try to speak. you clear your throat, hand flying to rub at the skin there. “i locked the door for a reason. also, how many times have i told you not to smoke down here?”

his hand, preparing to bring the cigarette to his mouth once again, freezes halfway to its intended destination.

he turns around, hooded eyes locking with yours, and lets out a laugh. “y/n, there are much worse things going on in this house right now.”

you glance back up the stairs, a furrow forming in your brows. he’s right; you know it and he knows it, but you press your lips together and stick your chin up. “this is a basement, loser no windows? the smoke is going to stick to—” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head, taking a step towards him. “wait, how did you even get down here? the door was locked.”

he grins at that. before he speaks, he makes a show out of putting the cigarette out on his wallet, careful not to get ashes anywhere. “sorry for smoking. i picked the lock.”

he takes a few steps, making his way around the couch so that now you two have nothing in between you two, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“you picked the lock?” you ask as you cross your arms over your chest. when he nods, you narrow your eyes further. after a few seconds of staring at each other, you click your tongue. “i don’t believe you.”

he blinks. once. twice. three times. “the door wasn’t busted, was it?” you shake your head and he shrugs. “because i picked the lock. it’s not broken; just very easy to pick.”

you think about it for a minute, but eventually roll your eyes and sigh. “okay, yeah, whatever. you’re cool and you know how to pick a lock.” you walk towards the couch, brushing his shoulder, then flop down on one of the couches. “that party is fucking killing me.”

he snickers and spins on his heel, sitting down beside you. “tell me about it,” he mumbles. “oikawa and maki ditched me for beer pong and the only other people i know were yukie and, well, you. but you guys were busy taking shots, or something.” he shrugs.

you out your head in your hands, slightly rubbing at your temples. this headache is getting worse. “i’m gonna need, like, four pints of nyquil to help me sleep tonight.” you pause, then groan. “oh my god, she’s gonna be so hungover tomorrow.”

again, he snickers.

“so not funny.”

“it’s a little funny.” he knocks his shoulder against yours. “headache?”

“mhm.”

“i have advil in my car, if you want some.”

you shake your head, sighing. “i have some upstairs, it’s fine.” you look over at him and give him a half-smile. “i’m not really sure i’m gonna go back up there though.”

“me either.” he smiles. “maybe we should have a sleepover down here. beer in the fridge, right?” when you nod, he stands and makes it to the fridge in fewer strides than you would have expected. he grabs two beers and looks at you, wriggling his brows. “we can even play some girly game like truth or dare.”

you laugh quietly, but take the beer he offers. “you’re dumb.”

“yeah,” he sighs out, sitting down once again. “sometimes.”

“truth or dare?” you ask, cracking open the can and giving him a coy smile.

he pretends to think for a second, humming, then says, “truth.”

you hum too, actually thinking. “who do you like more: oikawa or maki?”

“definitely maki. truth or dare?”

“dare.”

“i dare you to have a sleepover with me tonight in your basement.”

the laughs that leaves your mouth is involuntary. you cover your mouth with a hand, shaking your head. “matsukawa issei, if you wanted me to hangout with you, all you had to do was ask.”

he laughs, watching you closely. “wanna hangout?” his smile is a cross between hope and cockiness.

and of course, you nod. who can really resist mattsun when he smiles at them like that?

[milkbobatyun]

memories of the past

pairing: jingyuan x reader

genre: angst

summary: longevity is a blessing and a curse. if only he could spend a second more with you, he would be content.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: a sequel to fireworks and red packets that no one asked for but i wanted to do cus i saw a tiktok that gave me an idea i couldn't get out of my head heheheheh hope you enjoy this ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊.

they were not blood related, but they were family. Jingyuan, the dozing general of the xianzhou. yanqing, his trusted little aid, saved from the barren and bloodied battlefields. [name], the reliable and skilled secretary, who meant much more than that to the general and his foster son. mimi, the comforting murder machine who killed with her deceptive feline charm. together, they were the symbol of love, of relationship ideals and found family.

the xiaozhou mourned the loss of their beloved feline mascot when she passed. memorabilia was sold in her memory and honour. keychains, plushies and figurines adorned every xianzhou child's bed, bag and desk. though many thousands of years had passed, countless long life species were still not accustomed to the sight of a jingyuan without his dutiful lion.

new year festivals and other grand events were highly anticipated, but the locals always felt a piece of the familial image was mission when they didn’t see mimi being carried like a baby, back to their abode by her servant jingyuan.

the family of four has now become three.

as many arduous years dragged on, the curse of immortality and its burdens eroded away at the mind of the great dozing general. many sought to acquire and tame immortality, but alas they do not know the burden that weighs down on the shoulders of long-life beings. 

when the curse of mara was beginning to take its toll on you, you stepped down from your role, instead appointing fu xuan as your protege.

jingyuan spent many sleepless nights holed up in the archives of the xianzhou. he had helplessly watched his master succumb to the fate, he would not stand idly and be a bystander to his beloved’s suffering.

night after night, shelf after shelf, remedy after remedy, jingyuan scoured the notes left by his predecessors, fuelled by the flame of hope burning in his heart.

with every book tossed aside, every failed recipe poured down the sink, guilt lay heavy on his chest. he didn’t have the heart to see you, lest you were disappointed by his incompetence. thus, yanqing was tasked with cooking your medicine, helping you drink it to lessen the pain and alleviate your suffering.

in the late evenings, jingyuan would tread lightly into your room, drawing a seat by your side. every night, he was accompanied by the ghost of his failures and past friends. shadows lined the underside of his eyes, hair tousled and messy, no longer in its pristine up-do. he picked up the damp cloth, left on the edge of the tub, a permanent feature to your bedside table. with gentle hands, he dabs away at the sheen of cold sweat upon your forehead. nowadays, your angelic face was often creased in a frown of discomfort and pain.

as day faded into night, weeks faded into months, jingyuan’s old friends, hopelessness and helplessness, tightened their harsh fingers around his throat and heart, rendering him breathless. he couldn’t lose you too.

jingyuan rarely sleeps now. when he closes his eyes, he is haunted by phantoms of his past. jingliu, his master. she blames him for not helping to heal her of her ailments. dan feng, his old friend, cursing him for his betrayal.

worst of all, he sees you. jingyuan can only watch with wide eyes and a still body as you fade into nothing but skin and bone, while you lay in your bed, skin ashen and dull. sometimes, you are merciful, merely a silent ghost standing at the foot of his bed. other nights, you scream and curse him for being unable to save you. every night, jingyuan wakes in a cold sweat, his heart hammering in his throat, the distinct taste of tears on his tongue.

one morning, jingyuan is awoken from his night vigil by the gentle rustle of silken sheets, slender, bony fingers intertwining his. you are awake, life filling your eyes. your cheeks blush with the gentle rouge of natural colour and skin glowing with joy. 

jingyuan breathed your name gently, as though he can barely believe you are awake. the beautiful melodic laugh that he missed so much filled his ears. like a thirsty man who discovered an oasis in the desert, jingyuan drank in the music. a miracle, this was. immediately, jingyuan sent for both the doctor and yanqing.

a flash of blue and yellow shot through the door, as swift and lithe as a sparrow. with a pounce and a creak of the bed, yanqing had snuggled his way into your warm embrace.

“you’re awake,” he laughed, cheeks pink with delight.

“i’m awake.” you affirmed with a gentle smile, voice slightly hoarse from disuse.

jingyuan watched with a soft smile as you and yanqing discussed animatedly. you promised with linked pinkies that you would watch the next wardance and have the honours of being his coach. leaning close to his ear, you promised two beautifully handcrafted precious swords for his birthday, and a generous sum of red packet money next year. 

with shifty eyes and a sly smile, the two of you whispered close to each others ears, feigning innocence when jingyuan raises a suspicious eyebrow at the two of you. he doesn’t need to know that the two of you are plotting to steal his wallet again. jingyuan inwardly sighs at all these promises. it seems his budge will be tight for the next lunar new year.

with a bright smile and cheery wave, you bid farewell to jingyuan and yanqing. they wanted to stay for longer, but the sun was high in the sky and they both had their respective duties to tend to. neither of them noticed the grim shadow cast over the doctor’s face.

the setting sun dyed the blue, cloudless sky a crimson red as jingyuan finalised his duties for the day. as he organised his final few documents, the door is flung open and one of the servants who attend to you burst into his room.

“relax,” jingyuan chuckled, his mood bolster by the thought of seeing you healthy when he returned home. “someone would’ve thought that someone had died, with the amount of drama you caused just then.”

the servant paled. “my lord,” they stuttered, skin clammy with cold sweat, tongue and heart leadened with the dread of his next words “secretary [name] has passed.”

grief and shock pour over jingyuan like an icy bucket. 

“no,” he laughs bitterly, staggering against the table, “that’s not possible.”

regaining his footing, jingyuan shakes the messenger by the shoulders.

“this is just a cruel prank, a tasteless joke, right?” he cries. solemnly the servant shakes his head.

the family of three has reduced to two lonely souls, relying on each other for comfort.

the wardance comes and goes. without his honoured coach by his side, yanqing finds it hard to muster up the cheerful energy to meet the audience. however, he must play the role of the ‘youngest lieutenant on the xianzhou’ and showcase the xianzhou’s skill to the visitors from the other planets.

despite his win, when yanqing stands shoulder to shoulder with luka, tears prickle his eyeline. how he wishes you could be by his side, witnessing this rare scene. closing his eyes, yanqing raises his face to the sky, praying on every star watching over him that you could see him, from wherever you are. imagining your proud smile and comforting embrace, yanqing’s heart is warm, yet a bittersweet smile adorns his face.

it is the lunar new year once again. the streets are sombre with sorrow. locals dip their heads in sympathy when they see the general and his aide, wandering down the street. 

within a short period of time (by xianzhou long-life specie standards), the general’s family lost two important members. the once lively family was quiet, their cheer dampened by their loss.

the streets were no longer filled with the joyous teasing of their beloved secretary and the exasperated groans from jingyuan, as he watched with a broken heart as you spoiled yanqing with his hard-earned money.

instead, the chiming laughter of locals and the general’s family mingling as they witnessed the scene of jingyuan babying a ferociously large kitten lion faded into distant memories, immortalised through stories, told by locals to curious tourists and rowdy children, in hopes that those precious memories of the ones they lost could live on.

[saintfelina]

i'm still a slut for animalics

i'm back with more! as we enter a new year, i've realized nothing will ever top my love of animalics. to me this is the peak of femininity--not florals or gourmands, but the raw sex appeal of this perfume category embodies every thing i want to be. and this time i'm upping the ante. we're moving away from softer musks and honey notes, instead we're going full blown sweaty and skanky with cumin, and civet. these are difficult and they're supposed to be. so to make things more interesting we're gonna explore older, vintage animalics versus newer animalics and see how they differ and compare.

vintage animalics are notable for their use of animal products. the practice has been thankfully discontinued but i can't lie and say i don't smell the difference. they were richer, dirtier and overall more potent. therefore if you want the full experience i recommend ebay, facebook marketplace, vinted and estate sales for older bottles.

(1932) the oldest on the list, tabu was beloved by old hollyword stars for its sultry, spicy ultra-feminine scent. crafted by perfumer jean carles, he was reportedly given the scandalous instructions to make a perfume for "whores" and that he did! its lush and rich, projecting far and making an appearence before you step into the room. a favorite of dorothy dandridge it's no surprise this was favored by many a screen siren. however i suggest you look on ebay for vintage versions as theyre easy to come by and aren't too expensive. the new reformulations just don't cut it!

(1944) femme rochas is next, this scent was famously worn by mae west and its shapely bottle matches her figure perfectly. the peach mimics soft, warm skin and its spiciness adds depth and sensuality. a perfume that makes you want to wear nothing else. while vintage bottles are best, the modern reformulations are also lovely.

(1944) another 40s creation, bandit isnt as favored as fracas (notably worn by stars like madonna) as it's more androgynous, edgy and quite frankly tough. perfect for marlene dietrich who was known for her transgressive roles and star power. bandit is a vetiver forward fragrance with a rich leather and civet drydown. this isn't for the frivolous type. if you wear this you're on top.

(1962) bal à versailles is extremely animalic. deep, spicy and resinous it's a highly polarizing scent. the powdery notes are either cloying or comforting, and this is one where all reformulations are pretty good, but there's enough differences where some prefer one over the others. as vintage as it gets and not for the faint of heart.

we're gonna break away from the old girls (affectionate, reverent) and we're gonna meet the new hussies. these animalics are created with synthetic animalics or by replicating it with non animal scents like cumin. don't sleep on these, as they're staying strong in a wave of florals and gourmands.

(2006) kicking off this century we have putain des palaces, another perfume for whores (it's name translates to palace whore) and its made to envoke a whore's boudoir: lace, powder, skin musk. her nightly routine. its a sensuous fantasy, and it's powdery notes make her delicate, and skinlike.

(2012) mad madam is a very carnal rose. well its not just the rose, but the whole bush thorns and all. it's like you stumbled out scratched and a little bloodied after an illfated idea to take a tumble. it has a nice greenness to them, very sexy and luscious. its dirty earthiness gives it an edge over other roses.

(2015) here we have salome. and this is a raunchy girl befitting her name. to many this smells like straight up sex, or at the very least how you smell after having sex and you put on a fur coat instead of a robe. the florals come in and give it a bit of class but not much, and its dry and sweaty and honestly? a little perverse. an animalic very much in the vein of her foremothers.

(2017) you thought i wouldn't add another scent by the queen of animalics?? well this time we're venturing into under my skin by francesca bianchi. this is sensual, warm, and completely fits its name with its skinlike scent. this isnt clean skin but it isnt dirty skin either, this is the human smell of your body after its sweated in the warm sun. blends well and and settles smoothly like all her other creations.

(2021) now in this decade we have rosenrot intense, created by the metal band rammstein . this perfume is odd in a good way, this is animalic by way of a tiger with a bloodied face after a feast. but dont be too scared of the blood note, it's really not that prominent i just like exaggerating. i'd say the incense note is more prominent, making this more of a smoky animalic rose with a slight metallic undercurrant.

(2024) les cahiers secrets is a perfume with a backstory catered to me. the brand jouissance based it's scents over female erotica writers, and this one in particular is based on anais nin. it's another powdery skin scent. and i don't mean skin scent as in close and soft, but in that it mimics skin. it's slightly sweaty, and the mid notes give it a makeupy scent. perfect for banging out smut for a dollar a page.

(2024) i'm not gonna lie and say black dog is easy (or well...good) but it's interesting. the durian note makes it a rough opener, but it settles into something darker, more mysterious and a little gothic as the licorice and animalic notes of the base come out. i'd be scared of this one, but intrigued.

(2024) lastly we have super sexy skunk, another rough go from d.grayi but also very interesting! it's cannabis notes are potent, and thats where the skunk widely comes from. but its almost nostalgic like being in the back of a nissan altima smoking weed way too young. it truly is super sexy, and also very dangerous with its oud and animal notes. even the chocolate gives it some edge.

[rebelliousstories]

Date Night

ValenFics

Relationship: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 823

Main Masterlist: Here

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist: Here

Summary: Finally, coming home after a long day away, all Bob wants is the simple things in life.

Consider Donating: Here

“Goodnight, Phoenix. See you tomorrow.” The bespectacled man called to his front seater, waving vaguely behind him as he headed for the showers. He could hear her own farewell, but just barely. For now, he was focused on getting home to his lovely wife.

While the room temperature water rushed over him, all he could think about was going home. It had been a long, long day. Bob had been stuck in the cockpit of his jet with Phoenix for close to fifteen hours now. Sure they had breaks, but if they were not running drills, they were fixing it up. Tinkering away with the toggles or tightening up the engine. And then, they were back up in the air. Back and forth, back and forth the entire day.

Taking his ring off of his dog tags, Robert felt a wave of relief as he slipped it back onto its designated spot. He had contemplated getting a tattoo of her initial on his ring finger where the ring would sit, but doing the paperwork for a visible tattoo on his skin was a great deterrent.

Still, slinging his bag into the backseat of his truck, he was excited to finally be going home. The drive back was filled with the sounds of the radio. It was on some random vintage radio that played stuff from the 60’s and 70’s, but Bob was not paying too much attention. Not when he was just focused on getting home, eating whatever she made for dinner that he would have to reheat, and then slipping into bed next to her.

Drumming along to a mindless beat, Bob pulled into the driveway of his house just off base. But instead of seeing the lights off, they were on. It was already 8:45 at night. So why was she still up? Confused, he grabbed his duffle from the backseat and went to enter the home. The second he stepped in the door, Robert was blown away.

Instead of the lightbulbs overhead lighting up the space, the glow of dozens of candles illuminated the living room, the dining room, and down the hallway. However, he did not see his wife quite yet. Bob called her name out, only to hear a faint, “I’m here,” coming from their bedroom. His duffle bag was left by the front door, which he knew was going to get him a talking to later.

If he thought that the front of the house was stunning, that was nothing compared to the scene in the bedroom. A spotless bedroom, and candles everywhere. Smooth vintage jazz was coming from the bathroom. But still, no wife.

“Darling?” He called one more time, making sure he was in the right place.

“Bathroom, Bobby.” The pilot made his way through the door to see his wife smiling and giggling with excitement. More candles, to the point where Bob wondered where she was keeping all of these. There was a steaming hot bath drawn, low light and music; it was almost too much for him to take.

“What’s all this?” Bob asked, looking around the room but reaching his hands to grab her by the waist.

“Well, I figured you’d be tired by the time you came home from work. So, I thought I’d take care of you tonight instead.” Her hands came up and traced through the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Why? What brought this on?” Instead of getting upset that he did not remember, Mrs. Floyd just chuckled.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, silly. But-” Robert groaned. His head fell forward as he thought about it.

“I’m sorry, honey. I just… we’e been running drills and I totally forgot to get you your gift-” he rambled, but a kiss to his lips silenced him.

“It’s fine, Bobby. There’s a reason I said I’m taking care of you. I know what your schedule has been lately. So we’re going to take a bath, then I’m gonna feed you. And then, we’re going to bed.”

With a sigh of relief, Bob dropped his head to her chest. “That sounds lovely, honey.”

Before he knew it, Robert was inside the warmth of the water. His wife was behind him, massaging his shoulders and making him feel like he was in heaven. She massaged his scalp, scrubbing the shampoo in. He did not really know what the point was of double cleansing his scalp, or putting a deep conditioning mask on while she turned her attention back to his body, but there was no way in hell Bob was going to say anything to make her stop.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I forgot,” came his whisper, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“Don’t need to thank me, Bobby,” she replied. A kiss was left on the back of his neck, right at the top near his spine. “You take care of me, and now I need to take care of you.”

“Goodnight, Phoenix. See you tomorrow.” The bespectacled man called to his front seater, waving vaguely behind him as he headed for the showers. He could hear her own farewell, but just barely. For now, he was focused on getting home to his lovely wife.

While the room temperature water rushed over him, all he could think about was going home. It had been a long, long day. Bob had been stuck in the cockpit of his jet with Phoenix for close to fifteen hours now. Sure they had breaks, but if they were not running drills, they were fixing it up. Tinkering away with the toggles or tightening up the engine. And then, they were back up in the air. Back and forth, back and forth the entire day.

Taking his ring off of his dog tags, Robert felt a wave of relief as he slipped it back onto its designated spot. He had contemplated getting a tattoo of her initial on his ring finger where the ring would sit, but doing the paperwork for a visible tattoo on his skin was a great deterrent.

Still, slinging his bag into the backseat of his truck, he was excited to finally be going home. The drive back was filled with the sounds of the radio. It was on some random vintage radio that played stuff from the 60’s and 70’s, but Bob was not paying too much attention. Not when he was just focused on getting home, eating whatever she made for dinner that he would have to reheat, and then slipping into bed next to her.

Drumming along to a mindless beat, Bob pulled into the driveway of his house just off base. But instead of seeing the lights off, they were on. It was already 8:45 at night. So why was she still up? Confused, he grabbed his duffle from the backseat and went to enter the home. The second he stepped in the door, Robert was blown away.

Instead of the lightbulbs overhead lighting up the space, the glow of dozens of candles illuminated the living room, the dining room, and down the hallway. However, he did not see his wife quite yet. Bob called her name out, only to hear a faint, “I’m here,” coming from their bedroom. His duffle bag was left by the front door, which he knew was going to get him a talking to later.

If he thought that the front of the house was stunning, that was nothing compared to the scene in the bedroom. A spotless bedroom, and candles everywhere. Smooth vintage jazz was coming from the bathroom. But still, no wife.

“Darling?” He called one more time, making sure he was in the right place.

“Bathroom, Bobby.” The pilot made his way through the door to see his wife smiling and giggling with excitement. More candles, to the point where Bob wondered where she was keeping all of these. There was a steaming hot bath drawn, low light and music; it was almost too much for him to take.

“What’s all this?” Bob asked, looking around the room but reaching his hands to grab her by the waist.

“Well, I figured you’d be tired by the time you came home from work. So, I thought I’d take care of you tonight instead.” Her hands came up and traced through the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Why? What brought this on?” Instead of getting upset that he did not remember, Mrs. Floyd just chuckled.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, silly. But-” Robert groaned. His head fell forward as he thought about it.

“I’m sorry, honey. I just… we’e been running drills and I totally forgot to get you your gift-” he rambled, but a kiss to his lips silenced him.

“It’s fine, Bobby. There’s a reason I said I’m taking care of you. I know what your schedule has been lately. So we’re going to take a bath, then I’m gonna feed you. And then, we’re going to bed.”

With a sigh of relief, Bob dropped his head to her chest. “That sounds lovely, honey.”

Before he knew it, Robert was inside the warmth of the water. His wife was behind him, massaging his shoulders and making him feel like he was in heaven. She massaged his scalp, scrubbing the shampoo in. He did not really know what the point was of double cleansing his scalp, or putting a deep conditioning mask on while she turned her attention back to his body, but there was no way in hell Bob was going to say anything to make her stop.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I forgot,” came his whisper, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“Don’t need to thank me, Bobby,” she replied. A kiss was left on the back of his neck, right at the top near his spine. “You take care of me, and now I need to take care of you.”

[lorvdzdumpz]

Summer, 1960 – Graves Ranch, Texas [ Fia Graves x Russell Adler fanfic <3 ]

The summer had been long and golden, stretching out in endless days of sunburnt grass, the hum of cicadas, and warm breezes carrying the scent of horses and oak. The ranch had become a world of its own, separate from the expectations waiting for her in the fall. Separate from her mother’s overbearing control, from the life she was supposed to live.

But most importantly, it was the summer of him.

Russell Adler had arrived in early June, brought along by his father, who had been invited by her father for one of their usual visits. And from the moment he stepped onto the land, sun in his hair and an easy, confident smile on his face, he had stolen Fia’s world out from under her feet.

She had fallen—hard.

And yet, here they were. The summer was ending. And like the cruel, unrelenting truth, so was this.

Fia sat on the edge of her bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp flickering across her room. The air was thick, still heavy with the remnants of the blistering Texan heat. The window was open, curtains swaying lazily as the night breeze slipped inside, uninvited. But she didn’t care about any of that.

Because he was there.

Adler leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, his sleeves rolled up, exposing the tanned skin of his forearms. His smirk was slow, teasing—but there was something in his eyes. Something knowing.

“You left this in the barn.”

Fia’s breath caught as he held up the peach.

Her stomach twisted.

Her mouth went dry.

“I—” She fumbled for words, heart hammering against her ribs.

Adler stepped forward, closing the distance between them in long, easy strides.

And then, before she could protest, before she could even breathe, he bit into it.

Juice dripped down his fingers.

Fia shuddered.

Adler licked his lips, savoring the taste, watching her with an expression that was too much. Too teasing. Too knowing. Too fond.

“What did you do to it, sweetheart?” His voice was low, warm with amusement.

Fia felt her face burn, stomach twisting in shame and something else. Something deeper.

“I—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Adler stepped closer, slow, deliberate, dangerous in a way that made her head swim. His thumb brushed along her cheek, fingers tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges, a mixture of fondness and restraint.

Fia swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered on her lips.

“I just don’t want you to go,” she admitted, voice barely above a breath.

The teasing faded from his face.

Something in his expression softened, just slightly.

“Don’t go.” she whispered, it felt more like a plea than a statement.

And then, gently—almost painfully so—he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Fia…” He sighed, closing his eyes.

It was an apology. A silent confession. A quiet prayer.

Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, desperately clinging to the moment, to him, to the fleeting time they had left.

“I love you.”

A broken whisper.

A final attempt.

But they both knew the answer.

Summer was ending.

And Russell Adler—like all good things—was never meant to stay.

[ragnarockz]

for the men Strap POV Dialogue prompts... but its agent Vidal/Rio top, if that's ok with you?

1, 5, 8, 13

I may or may not have a thing for desperate top Rio... 🥺 Please and thank you 🤲

-🌟

“You feel so good around my cock.”

5. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

8. “Please let me cum.”

13. “Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you.”

Ohhhhh yeah; love me some top!Vidal 🥰💚

"You feel so good around my cock,"

Agnes hissed under her breath before moaning loudly. Vidal had taken her seat on Agnes' strap; facing each other. Vidal's legs held tight against the side of Agnes' body, using the grip to grind down harder, deeper onto Agnes. It was one of Agnes' favorite views in the entire world, Vidal sitting high and mighty; filled to the fucking brim with her cock. Tits bouncing as she controlled her own pace, her own needs. Agnes was just a vessel, just a toy for Vidal to use. Every once in a while, Agnes would buck her hips up and throw Vidal off course which elicited a long and deep scratch from the top of Agnes' thigh down to the knee. Vidal didn't like being thrown off her rhythm all that well. Agnes wanted to die every single time Vidal pouted.

Agnes watched Vidal through hooded eyes; watched her bounce and grind down onto the silicone that was planted snugly into the harness. It felt like nothing else mattered in that moment; the outside world melting away as the two of them fucked each others brains out. Was it Saturday? Sunday? Agnes lost track of time every time Friday night rolled around and they decided to 'stay in' for the weekend. Staying in always meant them barely leaving the bedroom; finding new ways to get one another off. It didn't take much; they couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop,"

Agnes mumbled under her breath; half-conscious as she could feel the friction between her legs; the weight of Vidal on top of her. Her own thighs were wet; covered in sweat and her own wetness. She could feel it seeping out of her; the sight alone of Vidal fucking her silicone cock was enough to make her wet, get her off. She was barely even touched by her, minus the scratching, and it was enough to make her feel like she was burning, aching inside. There was a dull throbbing; a deep aching to be touched or filled or fucked. Agnes let out a deep moan; shifting her hips.

Vidal knew what was happening, knew Agnes all too well. She was getting off by herself; she wasn't going to wait. It happened every time, not that it made Vidal upset or anything. It was obvious from the first time they were intimate that Agnes' libido was much higher, must faster than Vidal's. It didn't take much to get her wet or reach her orgasm. It made waiting and teasing all the more fun, Vidal thought. But here, right now, as she rocked against Agnes she could tell just from that moan that it was all going to end very, very soon.

Vidal's hands found Agnes' thighs again, digging her nails into the detective's skin. Agnes lifted her head, her neck to get a better view of the Agent on top of her. She caught a quick glance at how slick the silicone cock was; obviously doing its job.

"What's the fucking nails for, baby? Jesus..."

"Please let me cum."

Agnes huffed; rolled her eyes as she let her head hit the pillow again,

"No one's saying you can't..."

"I can tell you're just about ready...if you haven't already..."

Vidal's words were low, challenging. They had a hint of accusation in them; tugging at Agnes' conscious that she may or may not have done something 'bad'. Vidal smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a way that made her breasts bounce against her chest. Within seconds, Agnes' hands, her fingers were digging into Vidal's waist. Vidal laughed, how easy it was to make the detective snap. A quick flick of her hair and a titty bounce was all Agnes needed to get a head start.

“Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you!”

Vidal whined, high pitched and desperate; almost a full scream. Agnes felt like her head was spinning and a low strand of curses flew out of her mouth all at once. She was both focusing and losing herself in the moment; everything blurring and merging at once.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

She can't keep getting away with this!

[First] Prev <--> Next

[poniko-w]

i redrew her while making her minecraft skin since the only ref i had for her was literally ancient so!! here u guys go as a little treat

and an extra little doodle i made just to show off her tail since its not visible in the drawing itself

[stupidrant]

i think the most we will get is PC release (if that) this year but that means we gotta deal with those trolls bc changing angrb0da’s skin color is such a big deal to these mfs and i still dont understand that sweet baby inc shit bcuz all the information im seeing is just bundled bullshit LMFAOOO i feel like her actual character gets overshadowed by the made up problems and no one actually talks abt HER as a character or even analyses her fr (outside of here ofc) lol sms abt to make a banger with her and atreus istg

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly