#is it so hard to just say they have darker skin?

[soulofapatrick]

“You can watch me” - Ridoc Gamlyn x female reader 

Summary: You and Ridoc end up sleeping together almost immediately 

Warnings: Smut; fluff; fingering; 

Words: 3.4K

Notes: I couldn’t wait much longer to post this - we need more Ridoc stories so this might become a small series ehhehehe

This isn’t proofread so sorry for any mistakes or repetitions or anythinggggg 

Part One Here ⇒ I'm Not Watching You

Y/N’s POV 

Ridoc’s lips don’t leave mine as we stumble further into the room, his hands warm and steady against my hips, like he’s guiding me but not controlling me. Every kiss is teasing, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment—or more accurately, savouring the way I’m starting to melt under his touch. His lips leave mine briefly, only to trail down to the sensitive spot just beneath my jaw, where he pauses to press slow, heated kisses that make my breath hitch.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and rich with amusement. “I like it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I manage to say, though my words are breathless, lacking any real conviction.

Ridoc huffs a soft laugh, his lips curling into a smirk that I can feel against my neck. “You keep saying that, but I’m not convinced.”

I don’t have the chance to reply because his hands slide up my sides, his thumbs brushing beneath the hem of my shirt, just barely grazing my skin. The simple touch sends a wave of heat through me, and I gasp quietly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stepping back.

He tilts his head, catching my mouth with his again, and this time the kiss is slower, deeper. His tongue brushes against mine, coaxing rather than demanding, and I swear he’s trying to dismantle me piece by piece. One of his hands moves to the small of my back, steady and insistent, while the other tangles in my hair, tilting my head just enough to deepen the angle of the kiss.

“You’re trouble,” I mutter against his lips, the words coming out more like a sigh than anything else.

“So are you,” he counters smoothly, his grin audible in his tone. “But isn’t that what makes this fun?”

The teasing glint in his voice is enough to snap me out of whatever spell he’s weaving. I tug at his shirt, pulling him closer as a challenge, refusing to let him have the upper hand. Ridoc seems to enjoy it, his laughter rumbling low and warm in his chest as he lets me take control for a moment, his lips meeting mine with equal fervour.

It’s only when the back of my knees hit something solid that I realise he’s been steering me the whole time. I barely have time to register what’s happening before I lose my balance, the unexpected movement sending me tumbling backward onto the edge of the bed with a soft, surprised sound.

Ridoc comes with me, catching himself with one hand braced against the mattress beside my head. The other stays firmly on my waist, his grip steady as he looks down at me with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Careful,” he says, his voice softer now, though his grin hasn’t lost its mischievous edge. “I’d hate for you to hurt yourself.”

“Funny,” I retort, though my voice wavers just enough to betray me. “I thought you were the dangerous one.”

He smirks, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “Oh, I am. But don’t worry—I’ll catch you every time.”

There’s something in his tone, something warm and unguarded, that makes my chest tighten. Before I can think too hard about it, he leans down, capturing my lips in another kiss that’s slower this time, more deliberate. His weight presses against me, his body warm and solid, and the sensation sends a thrill racing through me.

His lips leave mine to trail down my neck again, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to draw a quiet gasp from me. His hand slides beneath my shirt, his fingers tracing lazy circles along my waist, the touch light and teasing.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own racing heartbeat.

Ridoc lifts his head, his grin softening into something almost tender as his thumb brushes against my skin. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone playful but laced with sincerity. “Then we’re even.”

He kisses me again, his hand slipping from my waist to thread through my hair, and I lose myself in the feeling of him—his warmth, his weight, the way he’s somehow both maddeningly teasing and completely grounding all at once. I don’t know where this is going or what it means, but for now, I don’t care.

Ridoc’s lips trace a burning path down my neck, his kisses deliberate and lingering, as though he’s memorising every inch of me with his mouth. Each touch sends a rush of fire through my veins, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. His hands are everywhere—sliding over my waist, my back, cradling me like I’m something precious and fragile, yet anchoring me so firmly I feel like I might shatter if he lets go.

I arch against him instinctively, a soft gasp slipping free when his teeth scrape lightly against the sensitive skin below my ear. It’s too much and not enough all at once, my thoughts spinning wildly as he presses closer, his body fitting perfectly against mine.

“Ridoc,” I whisper, his name tumbling from my lips without permission, and he hums in response, the sound low and dangerous and enough to make my knees go weak.

His lips skim my collarbone, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, the heat of his touch burning into my skin. I feel the shift in him—the slight hesitation as his fingers trail upward, his movements careful but insistent.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, his voice rough with restraint. He lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine, searching, waiting.

I hesitate, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt to steady myself as the weight of the moment crashes over me. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless rhythm of want and worry. I want this. I want him. But a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind, reminding me of the risks, the stakes, the things I can’t take back once they’re given.

“Wait,” I say, my voice breaking as I press a trembling hand against his chest. He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he pulls back just enough to look at me fully.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone softer now, threaded with concern.

I bite my lip, glancing away as I try to gather my thoughts. My chest tightens with a mix of vulnerability and fear, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “I don’t want this to be… just a one-time thing,” I admit, the words spilling out in a rush before I lose my nerve. “If we’re doing this, it has to mean something. I need to know that it’s not just casual for you.”

Ridoc stares at me for a moment, his expression shifting into something I don’t entirely recognise. There’s no cocky grin, no teasing glint in his eye—just an earnestness so raw and unguarded it makes my breath catch. Slowly, he lifts a hand to my face, his thumb brushing gently over my cheek in a touch so tender it nearly undoes me.

“You think I’d be here, like this, if it didn’t mean something?” he asks, his voice low but steady. His gaze never wavers, his intensity pinning me in place. “You think I’d touch you, kiss you, look at you the way I do if there was anyone else? There’s no one but you. There never has been.”

His words hit me like a thunderclap, unraveling every ounce of doubt I’ve been holding onto. My chest tightens, my throat burning as I stare at him, trying to find any trace of insincerity and coming up empty. He’s serious. Ridoc Gamlyn, the man who could charm his way out of any situation, who always seems to have a smirk on his face and a joke on his lips, is looking at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.

I swallow hard, my hands trembling as I slide them up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Okay,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the word. “Okay.”

Ridoc doesn’t move for a heartbeat, his gaze lingering on mine as though he’s giving me one last chance to change my mind. Then his lips crash against mine, harder, hungrier, every ounce of restraint slipping away. His hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him as his kiss deepens, his teeth catching my bottom lip in a way that makes my breath hitch.

My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as heat coils low in my stomach, a heady mix of anticipation and need flooding through me. When his hands find the hem of my shirt again, this time pulling it up just slightly, I don’t stop him.

Instead, I let myself fall into him completely, losing myself in the heat of his touch and the fire in his kiss

Ridoc’s kiss deepens, his lips and tongue working in perfect rhythm with an intensity that sets me alight. His hands are everywhere—careful but commanding, sliding over my sides, my back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The world narrows down to just him: the press of his body, the rasp of his breath, the faintest tremble in his touch that tells me he’s holding back more than I can fathom.

When his fingers find the hem of my shirt, he pauses again, his forehead resting against mine. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, and utterly sincere.

I shake my head, my own breath shaky as I grip the fabric of his shirt tighter in my fists. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all he needs. Slowly, deliberately, he tugs at the hem of my shirt, his hands brushing against my skin as he lifts it higher. Every movement is unhurried, reverent, like he’s savouring each second. When the fabric finally clears my head, Ridoc tosses it to the side, his gaze dropping to my newly exposed skin.

The way he looks at me sends a shiver through my entire body. It’s not just lust—it’s awe, reverence, like I’m something he never thought he’d deserve but refuses to let go of now that I’m here. His hands trace over my shoulders, down my arms, his thumbs brushing the curve of my collarbones with a gentleness that feels at odds with the fire in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, the words so soft they’re almost a breath, but they hit me with the force of a confession. His lips follow the path of his hands, pressing soft, lingering kisses to my shoulders, my throat, the curve of my neck.

Ridoc takes his time, his touch maddeningly slow as he works his way lower. His fingers trail down my sides, slipping beneath the waistband of my flight trousers just enough to tease but not enough to make a move yet. He looks up at me, his eyes locking onto mine as he leans in to press a kiss just below my collarbone, his lips warm and soft against my skin.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint.

“It’s not,” I manage, my voice trembling. “It’s perfect.”

His smirk makes a brief appearance, softer now, tinged with affection. “Good. Because I’m not rushing this. Not with you.”

His hands find the button of my flight trousers, and as he unfastens it, his lips continue their slow exploration, kissing and nipping at every inch of skin he reveals. He presses his lips to the dip of my stomach, the edge of his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there just enough to make my breath hitch.

When my flight trousers join my shirt on the floor, Ridoc leans back slightly, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that should make me feel self-conscious but somehow doesn’t. There’s no judgment in his expression, only raw, unfiltered desire mixed with something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten.

“You’re incredible,” he says, his voice low and rough, and the way he says it—like he truly believes it—makes my heart stumble in my chest.

He reaches for me again, his hands warm and steady as they slide up my thighs, over my hips, his touch reverent and grounding. Every brush of his fingers, every press of his lips feels deliberate, like he’s worshiping every inch of me, committing every detail to memory.

When his lips find mine again, it’s different this time—slower, deeper, filled with an intensity that makes my head spin. His hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones as he kisses me like he’s trying to tell me everything he can’t put into words.

“Ridoc,” I whisper against his lips, my voice trembling with emotion I can’t quite name.

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his forehead resting against mine. “You okay?”

I nod, swallowing hard as I lift a hand to his face, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I just… I’ve never—no one’s ever made me feel like this before.”

Ridoc’s expression softens, his eyes searching mine as he lifts a hand to cover mine where it rests against his cheek. “Good,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Because I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

His words settle over me like a promise, and when his lips find mine again, I let myself fall into him completely, trusting him to catch me. And he does.

Ridoc’s hands move with a slow, deliberate intent, his fingers brushing over my shoulders before gliding down my arms. His touch feels electric, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his hands come to rest at the clasp of my bra, he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, searching for any sign of hesitation.

My breath catches, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. I nod, giving him the silent permission he seems to need. His lips curve into the faintest smile—soft, reverent—before his fingers deftly undo the clasp.

The moment the fabric slips away, I feel the cool air against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating off him. Ridoc’s gaze lowers, his expression shifting into something almost worshipful. His hands return, gliding up my sides and stopping just beneath my ribs, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin there.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of absolute sincerity.

His hands move higher, slow and careful, and when his palms finally cup me, I feel the world tilt on its axis. His touch is firm but tender, his thumbs grazing over me in a way that sends a shiver racing down my spine. My breath stutters, and a soft sound escapes me before I can stop it, a mix of surprise and overwhelming sensation.

Ridoc’s lips find my throat, pressing kisses there as his hands explore, mapping me with a care that makes my chest ache. His touch is maddening, teasing, like he’s determined to take his time and savour every reaction he pulls from me.

“Ridoc,” I whisper, his name a breathless plea.

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something that makes my stomach twist in the best way. “Tell me what you need,” he says, his voice rough but steady, grounding me even as I feel like I’m unraveling.

“I just—” I bite my lip, heat rushing to my face as I struggle to find the words. But I don’t need to.

Ridoc seems to understand, his hands sliding lower, tracing a path down my stomach. Every movement feels deliberate, each touch igniting something deep within me. When his fingers finally slip between us, brushing against the apex of my thighs, I can’t hold back the gasp that tears from my lips.

The sensation is overwhelming, a sharp spike of pleasure that spreads through me like wildfire. His touch is gentle but assured, his fingers moving with a confidence that leaves me breathless. My hips arch instinctively, seeking more, and Ridoc responds with a low, throaty sound that makes my pulse race.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Every sound, every movement... I could get drunk on you.”

His words, combined with the skilful way his fingers explore, send me spiralling further into a haze of pleasure. The world falls away until there’s nothing but Ridoc—his touch, his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters.

Ridoc’s fingers move with unrelenting precision, each stroke coaxing a crescendo of sensation that builds higher and higher, until I feel like I might shatter from it. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I clutch at his shoulders, grounding myself in the solid warmth of him as he watches me, his gaze heavy with intensity and something softer, more profound.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough but gentle, sending a shiver down my spine. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot, and I cry out, my body arching into him as the tension inside me finally snaps.

Pleasure crashes over me in waves, and I cling to him as the world blurs and narrows to nothing but the overwhelming sensation and the sound of his voice murmuring quiet encouragements against my skin. His lips press soft kisses along my temple, my cheek, grounding me as I come back down, trembling and breathless.

When my pulse steadies and I open my eyes, Ridoc is watching me with a small, self-satisfied grin tugging at his lips. The tenderness in his gaze makes my chest ache. Without thinking, I reach for him, tugging at his shirt, my fingers desperate to find skin.

But Ridoc gently catches my hands, stilling them with a quiet chuckle. “Whoa there,” he teases, though his voice is husky, betraying his own restraint.

“Ridoc,” I protest, pulling at his hands, but he shakes his head, leaning down to capture my lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath mingling with my own. “Tonight’s about you,” he whispers, his voice low and steady. “I wanted to make sure you felt how much you mean to me. We can do more another day, but for now…” He trails off, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a tenderness that sends warmth flooding through me.

I start to argue, but he silences me with another kiss—soft and insistent, stealing the words from my lips and leaving me dizzy. “Let’s get into bed,” he murmurs when he pulls back, his smile gentle but firm. “I just want to hold you tonight.”

There’s no room for argument in his tone, but the sincerity in his eyes melts any resistance I might have had. With a soft sigh, I let him guide me toward the bed. He pulls the covers back and helps me settle in, his movements careful and unhurried, like he’s savouring every moment.

When he slips in beside me, his arms wrap around me, pulling me close against his chest. His warmth surrounds me, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear.

“Just you and me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s all I need.”

And as I lie there, cocooned in his embrace, I realise it’s all I need, too.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@caramelmacchiato07 @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @mariahoedt @marrass @honethatty12 @ladymacbabe

[misctf]

All Eyes on You

A trade for @axeeglitter

“Really?” Eric could feel his temper rising, “How many times have I told you I don’t like it when...”

“I don’t get the big deal.” Paul replied, putting his phone down, “You know I think you’re hot, right?” He continues, “So what if I like to look at hot guys on the internet?”

Eric caught a glimpse of another guy Eric with ogling. It was always the same- his boyfriend totally had a type. Another stupid, athletic, and musclebound jock. The guy doing some kind of stupid dance- swaying and rubbing his engorged muscles. How could Paul watch this kind of cringe content anyway?

“That’s what turns you on?” Eric mumbled, “You know it makes me uncomfortable.” He admitted, “I just don’t know what you keep turning to social media to get your dick hard.”

“It’s not that...” Paul replied, “Look, I’m not trying to...”

“Well you are.” Eric spat, “I’m done talking about this.” And before Paul could say another word, Eric stormed out of the room and to their shared bedroom.

As he shut the door, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. He paced back and forth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to process the hurt and anger coursing through his veins.

“Doesn't he understand how much it hurts?” Eric thought bitterly, “Seeing him drool over those perfect-looking jocks all the time. Like I'm not good enough for him anymore.”

He couldn't shake the image of the latest hunk Paul had been ogling - all rippling abs and bulging biceps, gyrating obscenely on screen. Compared to that Adonis, Eric felt small and inadequate. His own body, which he'd always considered average but attractive, now seemed soft and unappealing in his eyes.

“I wish...” Eric whispered under his breath, “I wish Paul would see me that way sometimes. That he’d look at me like he looks at those guys.”

As if in response to his heartfelt wish, Eric's phone began to vibrate and glow against the nightstand. He froze, staring at the pulsing screen in confusion. Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over him. Eric glanced down and gasped as he watched his chest hairs disappear before his very eyes, falling to the ground and disappearing. He reached up to touch the smooth skin that replaced it. He hadn’t been hairless since his early 20s and the sensation of his smooth skin felt unfamiliar.  

“What the fuck?” Eric breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart, “You don’t just lose your body hair.” He mumbles, watching as the hairs on his belly fell away, “Wait...” He held up his arm, watching as the darker hairs became lighter in color.

Eric approached his mirror cautiously, his eyes widening as he took in the changes reflected back at him. The dark hair on his head were gradually lightening, transforming into a rich, honey-brown, while his five o’clock shadow vanished. His gaze drifted lower, noting the subtle shift in skin tone. Blotches of sun-kissed warmth broke through his natural pallor, spreading across his body slowly but surely. It was as if he'd spent hours basking in the warm summer sun without actually stepping outside. As Eric gazed at his reflection, he noticed something even more astonishing - the lines etched into his face, the crow's feet around his eyes, the sagging skin beneath his chin - all seemed to be fading away. His skin appeared smoother, tighter, almost radiant. He looked... younger. Much younger than his actual thirty years.

“No, it can't be...” Eric muttered, feeling his youthful skin, “I...” He bites his lip. He hasn’t looked like this since he was at least 21. But even at 21 he wasn’t sporting this kind of tan, “I need to find Paul. I need to...”

A sharp intake of breath escaped Eric's lips as he felt an intense heat radiate through his chest. He watched in disbelief as his pecs began to swell, growing larger and more defined by the second. Muscles he never knew he possessed started to take shape, bunching and rippling beneath his skin.

“No, stop!” Eric cried out, panic lacing his voice as he frantically tried to halt the transformation.

But it only intensified, spreading to his arms and shoulders. His triceps ballooned, his biceps thickened, and his deltoids grew broad and powerful. Eric let out a strangled moan as the metamorphosis continued. His abdominal muscles tightened and hardened, forming a chiseled six-pack that flexed with every ragged breath. The once-flat plane of his stomach now boasted a deep, carved indent in the middle. His glutes, too, underwent a drastic makeover. The flesh compacted and reformed, molding itself into two perfectly rounded globes. His thighs thickened, his quadriceps bulging with raw power. Every inch of Eric's body was being reshaped, remade, reborn into a sculpted masterpiece of masculinity. 

“This isn't me. This can't be happening.” Eric gasped as he stared at himself in the mirror, “This is a dream... this doesn’t just happen to people.” He mumbles, drinking in the sight of his new muscles.

A sudden wave of prickling sensation assaulted Eric's armpits as coarse, dark hair sprouted. The air was thick with the acrid scent of sweat and musk, a potent aroma that filled his nostrils and made his stomach churn.

“Ugh, what the hell?” Eric groaned, clamping a hand over one armpit as he sniffed himself again, recoiling at the pungent odor, “I smell like a gym bag.”

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks - he now emitted the exact same stench as the muscular, gym-rat types Paul constantly ogled online. He reached his meatier hand to touch the mirror, and gasped. Eric's hands flew up to cover his face, trembling as he felt the contours of his features shift and morph. His nose narrowed, his jawline squared off, and his cheekbones sharpened into a chiseled, angular silhouette. His lips thinned into a smirk, and his eyes took on a cocky, confident glint.

“No...” Eric whispered, barely recognizing the stranger staring back at him.

Gone was the soft, rounded face of his thirty-year-old self; in its place sat the visage of a smug, arrogant young jock - the very archetype Paul seemed to worship. With a sense of dread, Eric watched as a pair of tight, athletic shorts emerged from thin air and slithered down his muscular thighs, settling snugly around his crotch. Embroidered on the side of the shorts in bold, white letters was the number '28'. At the same time, a pair of baseball cleats materialized on his feet, the stench of stale sweat and dirty socks wafting up to assault his nostrils. They fit perfectly, molded to the contours of his sizeable calves and ankles.

“This is insane.” Eric choked out, revulsion washing over him as he took in his new appearance, “What kind of sick joke is this? I don’t want this. I want Paul to love me for my looks, not some cocky asshole’s.” No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the cocky glint in his eyes. And his lips seemed to default to a smug smirk, “I need to...”

Before he could finish his thought, Eric's hips began to sway of their own accord, his movements fluid and sensual as he danced in front of the mirror. One hand roamed over his chiseled torso, tracing the dips and curves of his newly formed muscles. The smirk on his face grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger he didn't recognize.

“This isn't me.” Eric panted, but his body refused to obey, continuing its seductive dance, “Stop it! Get control of yourself!” But before he could say another word, his lips formed into a confident smirk. He realized that just like his dancing, he couldn’t control the smirk, “No please! I can’t talk.” He thought, “Stop! Stop this!”

In the mirror, he can see his newly athletic body move. His confident smirk. He can even still smell the masculine stench that wafts from his clothes and pits. Eric wanted to cry- feeling totally powerless. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t like those guys that Paul drooled over. He wasn’t...

“Wait, what’s that?!” Eric watches as his phone started to glow, basking him in a blue light, “Oh god it hurts! Stop!”

He could feel his body breaking down- simplifying. Every organic component of him being broken down and changed into a pattern of pixels and data. His body digitized and absorbed into the phone. And when the pain stopped, Eric realized he was no longer in his room. He was in a locker room. The smells from his own body still assaulting his nose. His body still moving against his will.

“Paul... Anyone...” Eric thought, “Help me...” 

But his plea was lost amidst the endless loop of his own mesmerizing form. Reduced to a looping GIF of his newly buff physique. His athletic shorts and baseball cleats remained, along with the arrogant smirk frozen on his face. Each time the animation played, his muscles rippled and flexed, his abs contracting hypnotically. And worst yet, he could feel eyes on him. All the users who viewed him in his digitalized prison. Comments flooded in, each one more enthusiastic than the last. “Holy shit, so hot!”, “Best thing I've seen all week!”, “Makes me wanna tap that!”

“No... please...” Eric's mind reeled in horror as the comments repeated in his mind, unable to comprehend his own degradation. Trapped inside this digital prison, forced to perpetuate the very objectification he despised.

He didn’t know how long it took until he felt his boyfriend’s gaze on him. For a moment, Eric dared to hope - perhaps his boyfriend could somehow hear him, free him from this living nightmare. But as Paul's fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing out a message, Eric's hopes dwindled.

“Yum.”

Eric's heart sank, his despair deepening as he realized Paul had no idea it was him trapped in this degrading digital form. To his boyfriend, he was just another hot piece of eye candy to admire and lust after. And after a few more minutes of watching, Paul moved on, leaving Eric to continue his eternal dance.

Hours passed, then days, and Eric's awareness persisted, forever confined within the looping GIF. Paul returned sporadically, devouring each iteration of his digitally rendered form with hungry eyes. As the weeks dragged on, Eric's initial shock gave way to a numb acceptance. This was his existence now - a perpetual spectacle, reduced to nothing more than a collection of pixels and motion. The irony was not lost on him. He had once envied the attention Paul gave to those jocks and their thirst traps. Now he was one- just a thirst trap, dancing in a smelly locker room- forever.

[jrwiyuri]

Thinking <_<

[welcometoteyvat]

tbh i know ppl have said cn players are speaking up but i don't actually know how true that is lmao. if hoyo took the initiative to make brown people actually real in game maybe they'd learn that pretty characters =/= pale skin but 🧍‍♀️

why i say this is like: (last time i checked) on twitter the english drip marketing has gotten vastly fewer likes/rt's than clorinde, emilie, or sigewinne's etc, while the jp twitter drip and bilibili posts have gotten basically the same amount of likes/shares as 4.7's. also maybe my search keywords are wrong but if you search natlan dark skin/纳塔黑皮 (on bilibili: video sharing site): there are some videos posting edits from twitter, and a fair amt of people comment 'oh this actually looks good' or 'oh not bad' etc, but there are also people just. being straight up racist, a good amount of people just writing this off as global fans organizing drama, and the usual retorts of 'just go play/make another game, genshin's supposed to cater to chinese aesthetics/beauty standards anyways' and im like. 🧍‍♀️

[constantvariations]

Just from a design standpoint, it's very disappointing that all the folks with bright, light color schemes (Yang, Weiss, Sun, etc) are also light skinned when it would be best to make them dark skinned - Sun and Yang especially given how little representation dark skinned Asians have

By doing this, Yang would finally be free of those awful brown slops of outfits while Sun and Weiss would stop disappearing into their white clothes because ☆~contrast~☆ would finally exist

[loveritas]

Ft. Ayato ノ Alhaitham ノ Wanderer ノ Childe ノ Wriothesley ノ Neuvillette

sum: things you do that unintentionally turn them on. wc: 14k - roughly 2k - 2.5k per part

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in alhaitham's), oral (reader givingノreceiving), fingering, come swallowing, handjob in wrio's, mentions of pregnancy/breeding kink in ayato's, out in the open for wanderer's but not caught, 69 in neuvillette's + he carries you

a/n: i liked this until i didn't, which is awkward :')

જ⁀ when he loses to you in a debate - 2k

It felt like the hundredth time that day you’d torn his argument to pieces, your words sharp and precisely calculated. Alhaitham leaned back, eyeing you with a narrowed gaze as he re-evaluated every point you made, searching desperately for a flaw. But there wasn’t one—and that infuriated him.

He was accustomed to being the sharpest mind in the room, to dissecting others’ logic with ease. Yet here you were, dismantling his points without breaking a sweat, meeting him step for step. It should have annoyed him beyond measure. And yet…

His pulse quickened, and he could feel his focus drifting, thoughts derailing as you delivered yet another rebuttal with a slight, victorious curl of your lips. There was a fire in your eyes, a self-assurance that both irritated and exhilarated him, pulling him into an awareness that had little to do with intellectual sparring.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, from the determined glint in your eyes to the way your lips formed around each sharp, defiant word. His jaw clenched, and he felt that familiar frustration morph into something else, something darker, something primal.

“Nothing to say?” you prodded with a smug smile, savouring your apparent win. “That’s not like you, Alhaitham.”

His eyes darkened. For a second, the composed mask slipped, and the heat simmering beneath flickered to the surface. “I could argue,” he replied, his voice low, dangerously calm. “But it seems you’re enjoying this far too much.”

The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else, something unwilling—an almost grudging respect. You’d pushed him to the edge, stripped him of his usual control, and a part of him both resented and admired your nerve. But there was no denying it: you were driving him insane.

A charged silence hung between you, and he felt it—the heat radiating from your body, the steady rhythm of your breath, so close he could feel it. His own thoughts had scattered, leaving him with nothing but the ache of desire he was no longer able to ignore. Alhaitham stood taller, his expression hardening as his gaze settled on your lips, then drifted back to meet your eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, his voice roughened by tension. But the bite was gone from his tone, replaced by something unspoken, something magnetic.

Suddenly, he moved, his body pressing you back against the bookshelf, his hands bracketing you, and every other word disappeared from his mind. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper in your ear. “You think you’re so clever,” he said, his fingers tracing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, “always knowing just what to say to get under my skin.”

You felt his other hand slide down, coming to rest on your hip as he drew you closer. Every inch of his lean frame was now flush against you, his erection pressing insistently through the layers between you. The last of his restraint was slipping, replaced by a raw intensity that left no space for pretences.

His lips grazed along your neck, each touch sending a shudder of heat through you as his breath came hot and uneven while he slipped a hand under your shirt, fingers trailing possessively over skin that was bare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting against your neck. “Pushing me, daring me. Now, let’s see just how far you can go.”

In a single, bruising kiss, he claimed your mouth, his hands now exploring the lines and curves of your body with a feverish hunger, mapping out every reaction he’d managed to draw from you. His kiss was fierce and commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tasted every inch of you, unravelling the last threads of your composure.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the bookshelf. A few books tumbled from the shelves, forgotten in the heat building between you as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against your shoulder, his voice low and dark. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, rough with need, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt, fingertips trailing against your skin. “All this time, getting under my skin… has it been driving you mad, too?”

Alhaitham’s hand slipped beneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the warmth radiating through the thin damp fabric of your underwear. A quiet groan escapes him, a sound rough with desire, as he felt your wetness, his own anticipation building with every heartbeat.

"You're so fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slip under the fabric, sliding through your slick folds. "All this time, you've been getting off on our arguments, haven't you? Getting yourself all worked up, imagining me bending you over and fucking you in my office."

He circles your clit with his thumb, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he works you over with his skilled fingers.

"I bet you've touched yourself thinking about me," he continues, his words filthy and raw. "Imagined my cock splitting you open, making you moan my name.”

“Shut up, you talk too much-” you mumble.

Alhaitham chuckles darkly at your mumbled plea, his fingers still working between your legs. "No no-. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how much you need my cock."

He thrusts two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your knees weak. His thumb rubs tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come on, angel. Use that clever tongue of yours for something other than arguing with me. Beg for it."

His other hand slides up under your shirt, roughly palming one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, a gasp falling from your lips.

"Or maybe you'd rather I stop altogether? Leave you here, dripping and desperate, with nothing to satisfy you but your own fingers?"

He slows his movements, letting the threat hang in the air. Your hips buck back against him, seeking more friction, more pressure. You're so close, and yet he holds all the power to send you over.

"What's it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl and tell me what you want?”

"Please, need it-"

Alhaitham's fingers still inside you at your breathy plea, your desperate words sending a thrill through him. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, "There we go.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, teasingly. You whimper at the loss, your hips pushing back, seeking to be filled again.

"Ah ah," he tuts, his hand resting on your ass. "Patience. You'll get what you need.”

He steps back, leaving you bent over the bookshelf and aching for him. He undoes his belt, along with the zipper. He approaches his desk drawer, rummaging through before he settles back behind you. You hear the crinkle of foil, the snap of latex, and then the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

Alhaitham runs it along your slit, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. He drags the tip through your folds, covering himself in your sticky arousal.

"Look at you, wanting it so badly," he taunts, his voice a low growl.

He pushes forward, just the tip breaching you, stretching you open. Your walls flutter around him, trying to draw him in deeper.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He chuckles darkly, slowly sinking into your heat inch by excruciating inch.

He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, savouring the feel of your tight walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

"That's it-" he encourages, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the good girl you are."

His hand snakes around to your front, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Alhaitham sets a deep, punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The bookcase rocks under the force of his movements; books tumble to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He leans over you, a hand closing on your hip as his cock drives into you relentlessly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl.

He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder and faster now, chasing his own release. Skin slapping against skin fills the room with an obscene sound, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounds into you, lost in the feeling of your hot, wet walls clenching around him.

His fingers closed tight around your hips, pinning you down as he thrust with a fervour that made you cling to the bookshelf. “Fuck, I’m close-" he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. And just when you thought he’d let go, he pulled away, leaving you empty and aching, the heat between you simmering in the air. 

Before you could protest, he spun you around, lifting you onto the edge of his desk. He pushes your legs apart, settling between your thighs once more.

"Wanna’ see your face," he growls, his voice rough with desire.

He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. Then, with one swift thrust, he's buried inside you again, filling you completely.

He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with wild abandon. The desk creaked beneath you with each powerful thrust, papers slipping off in a messy cascade to the floor.

He pressed into you, his weight grounding you in place as his lips found yours in a fierce, consuming kiss that left you breathless. When he finally broke away, his mouth traced a heated path down your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your skin, each touch both a promise and a tease. His hips never stop moving, pounding into you with a frenzied energy.

"Come for me," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. "I want to feel you come apart on my cock."

He reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation sending you spiralling towards the edge.

Your walls start to flutter, Your breaths are fast and uneven, your body trembling, teetering just on the edge. “Come on,” he murmured, his movements growing less controlled, more desperate, as he felt his own resolve slipping. “Let go… let me feel you.”

With a final, brutal thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing through your body. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the aftershocks.

Alhaitham follows shortly after, his cock pulsing inside you as he finds his own release. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan against your skin.

You both collapse onto the desk, panting and spent, bodies still joined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter.

"Maybe we should have debates more often...." you joke breathlessly.

"Only if it ends like this." he mutters tirelessly as he leans in, his lips meeting yours.

જ⁀ when you argue with him - 2.5k

“Do you ever think before you act?” you snapped, standing so close to Childe that the heat radiating from him matched your own.

His jaw tightened, and he leaned in, voice rising to meet yours. “Don’t lecture me about thinking ahead! If you’d just trusted me for once, we wouldn’t even need a backup plan!”

“Trust you?” You let out a harsh, bitter laugh, meeting his glare without flinching. “How am I supposed to trust you when you treat this like some game? People could have gotten hurt, Childe! This isn’t just your reckless thrill.”

He scoffed, but something in his eyes softened, though it was quickly swallowed by the intensity burning there. "You think I take this lightly? It’s so damn frustrating to have you question every move I make."

You took another step closer, your heart beating faster as the air between you grew heavier, alive with unspoken tension. "I question your moves because they're reckless, Childe. Because you act like you're the only one who matters!

"That's what you think?" he growled, his voice was low and furious. "That I don't care what happens to the people around me?"

For a moment, there was something raw in his eyes—open and wounded—but you pushed the feeling aside, refusing to let him derail you. "You say you care, but you're so caught up in your ego that you can't see past your own reflection.".

"Ego?" He snorted, but his eyes were wild, almost electric, and he leaned in closer to you, the space between you evaporating. "You're one to talk! Acting like you know everything, like I can't do a single thing out there without you hovering over my shoulder."

“Because I have to! If I don’t, you’d—” Your voice wavered as you became acutely aware of just how close he was, his face inches from yours. His eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for the faintest beat before they snapped back to meet yours.

And that’s when it struck you—his cheeks were flushed, his gaze burning with something more than just anger. The tension between you wasn’t just frustration; there was a heat simmering beneath it all, sparking like a fuse, and you could feel it as clearly as the breath between you.

This wasn’t just anger. The challenge, the fight, you standing toe-to-toe with him—it had him caught up in something else entirely.

You sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily thrown. “Are… are you enjoying this?” you asked, voice barely a whisper, incredulous.

Childe didn't even try to hide it; his eyes softened, and a smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and charged. "Maybe I am," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Didn't think you had this much fire in you.".

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “This isn’t funny, Childe. I’m trying to get through to you, and you’re—”

“Oh, I’m listening,” he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, rougher. “But I can’t help it if seeing you like this… gets me a little fired up.” His eyes gleamed with a challenging spark, as if daring you to push him further, to keep pushing back.

Your breath caught, but you refused to back down, even as you felt the air between you grow thick with an intensity that was no longer just anger. “You’re… unbelievable,” you managed, your voice wavering slightly.

Childe’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he took that final, daring step closer. His hand found your jaw, fingers brushing your skin with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. For a heartbeat, the only sound between you was your own uneven breathing as his gaze flicked once more to your lips, lingering there.

“I’m unbelievable, am I?” he murmured, voice barely a breath, but carrying enough intensity to make your pulse race even faster.

"I-"

Before you could respond, his lips met yours with a raw intensity that sent a jolt through you. The kiss was anything but restrained—urgent, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and was finally letting go. His fingers tightened around your jaw, his other hand slipping to your waist to pull you in close, eliminating any trace of space between you.

You matched his intensity, pressing back just as fiercely, your hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight as you poured every ounce of pent-up frustration, tension, and maybe something more into the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into nothing as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that left you breathless.

Childe groaned low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He broke away from your mouth just long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "You drive me crazy," he growled against your throat, his voice rough with need. "Always questioning me, always pushing back. It's fucking hot."

His hands glide along your sides, lifting your shirt in one fluid motion and discarding it as his eyes roamed over you, dark with desire. He paused just briefly, letting the sight of you linger, before his mouth found you again, tracing the curves of your chest with lips and tongue, his fingers deftly working to free you from your bra.

You arched into his touch, head falling back as pleasure sparked through you. Your own hands worked frantically at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Ajax," you gasped out, your voice breathy and wanton. "Please..."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Please what?" he murmured, nipping at your collarbone. "I wanna hear you say it."

You swallowed hard, your mind hazy with desire. "I want you," you managed, your voice trembling. "I want you to fuck me, please-”

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against his already hard cock. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing that still separated you.

"I need you," Childe rasped against your lips, his hips rolling against yours in a slow grind. "Right fucking now."

He guided you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed, the heated kiss unbroken. He slid down on top of you in one fluid motion, pressing you down onto the bed as he moved with you, pinning you under him, his eyes dark and intense as he took you in. His chest rose and fell with a few heavy breaths as he steadied himself.

"This is your last chance to back out," he whispered, his voice low and rough-edged. "Because once I start, I won't stop until I've had every bit of you."

Your eyes met his, soft and misty with anticipation as the unspoken answer hung in the charged space between you.

"I don't want you to stop," you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. "I want everything you've got-"

With a feral growl, his hands made quick work of the remaining barriers between you. Childe's fingers hooked into your waistband and yanked your trousers and panties down in one swift motion. His eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of you, splayed out beneath him, completely bare. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

He settled between your thighs, the heat of his bare skin against your most sensitive parts making you gasp. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to where you needed him most.

"Please," you whimpered, arching your hips in search of more friction. "Ajax, I need-"

“Shh,” he whispered, brushing a finger softly over your lips. "Just relax… let me take care of you." His voice was just a lulling hum, low and comforting.

He lowered his head and traced a slow, tantalising path up your inner thigh with his tongue, each inch a deliberate tease. A shiver coursed through you, your fingers clutching the sheets as he inched closer to your core, building anticipation with every lingering touch.

When his tongue finally ran along your slit, you cried out, your back bowing off the bed. His tongue swirled around your clit, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on feral. Two fingers pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way.

"That's it, let me hear you," Childe growled against your skin, his words sending vibrations straight to your core. "Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."

He worked you relentlessly, his fingers curling inside you just right, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit. It wasn’t long before you were teetering on the edge, thighs trembling around him as your fingers tangled desperately in his hair.

His mouth moved over you with a hungry intensity, each slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue sending sparks racing through you, making your hips roll instinctively to meet his every movement.

Your arousal slicked his lips and chin as he held you close, his fingers working in tandem, pressing into you and curling just right to reach that deep, electric spot that made you lose all sense of restraint. The pleasure built steadily, his every touch pushing you closer to the point of no return, your entire body drawn taut in anticipation.

The obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy, the squelch of his fingers inside you, the filthy slurps and moans he made as he ate you out - it was almost too much to bear.

He groaned against your folds, the vibrations making you buck and writhe beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, pinning you in place as he kept up his relentless assault on your clit.

Your thighs were shaking violently as your muscles tensed and coiled tight with your approaching orgasm. Childe sensed it too, doubling his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he finger-fucked you harder, faster.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice muffled against your soaked folds. "Let me feel you come undone on my tongue. Fucking soak me, baby.”

With a hoarse cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as wave upon wave of searing pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, your arousal slick on his chin, dripping down onto the sheets beneath him.

Childe groaned low in his throat, lapping at your release as if it were the finest ambrosia, wringing the last drop of pleasure from your body until you lay still beneath him.

He slowly pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He licked his lips, savouring your taste with a satisfied hum. “Tastes so fucking sweet.”

He crawled up your body, settling between your thighs once more. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance, making you clench with anticipation.

"I need to be inside you," Childe growled, his voice strained with need. "Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing my cock."

He reached down, gripping himself and rubbing the swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. You whimpered, your hips canting up, trying to force him inside.

"Please," you begged, your voice wrecked and desperate. "Ajax, I need you. Need you so fucking bad."

With a low groan, he pushed forward, sinking into your wet heat inch by inch. You both moaned at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Childe panted, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts as he let you adjust to him. "Feels so good, baby. So fucking good."

Once you'd both adjusted, he started to move, pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that made the bed creak and your body jolt with each powerful thrust.

Childe's hands gripped your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper inside you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch of my cock."

You could do no more than moan incoherently, hands scrabbling at the sheets. The feeling of him so deep inside you, stretching you, filling you, was almost too much to bear.

"You like that, don't you?" Childe panted, strained with exertion.

"Like having me so fucking deep inside you." He punctuated each filthy word with a sharp snap of his hips, driving into you so hard that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around him like a vice.

"Shit, baby," Childe growled, his rhythm faltering as he fought to hold back his own release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Gonna- gonna make me cum if you keep doing that."

But you were too far gone to care, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure consuming you. All you could do was hold on for dear life as Childe fucked you through your orgasm, his cock hitting your deepest spots with every thrust, pushing you higher and higher until you were sure you'd black out from the intensity of it all.

Childe's thrusts grew erratic, his fingers digging into your ankles as he chased his own release.

His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he found his peak. You felt the hot rush of his cum painting your walls, claiming you from the inside out. 

A low, shuddering groan escaped him as the intensity of his release rippled through his body. And for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved, basking in the dying warmth and soft haze of satisfaction.

The weight of Childe pressed against you as he lowered your legs back down. His warm breath on your shoulder as he stayed inside of you. He slowly lifted his head, eyes locked with yours. For that one moment, there was something soft in his eyes—something almost tender—the softness he mostly protected.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he muttered, his voice low and warm.

A smile played at your lips as you looked up at him, quiet happiness filling your eyes. "Not too bad yourself," you teased, reaching up to rest your hand against his cheek, your thumb tracing a light path along his jawline. "For a reckless, ego-driven, pain in the ass."

Childe laughed, leaning into your touch with a shameless grin. "I think you meant to say charming, irresistible, and exceptionally skilled in bed," he corrected, a roguish glint firing in his eyes.

"Yeah, maybe that too," you whispered, pulling him into a soft, dragged-out kiss, basking in the wordless connection that ran between you.

જ⁀ seeing you do domestic things - 2.4k

Ayato leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his eyes focused on you as you worked. The soft light of the afternoon filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on the scene in front of him. You were humming quietly to yourself as you stirred the pot on the hob, moving with a quiet grace that Ayato could only admire.

It wasn’t just the domesticity of the moment that caught his attention—it was the way you made it look so effortless, the way you fit so naturally into his life, his home. You were already making the space feel like it was your joint space, your presence breathing life into the place, and Ayato found himself growing more and more captivated by the thought of this becoming a permanent reality.

You glanced up, catching him watching you, and a teasing smile tugged at your lips. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you going to help?"

Ayato stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’d rather just watch you, honestly,” he said smoothly, his voice thick with desire. “It’s hard to look away when you make something as simple as cooking look so… irresistible.”

You laughed lightly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, the intensity of his gaze deepening with each passing second. You continued with your work, though something about the way he was looking at you made your pulse quicken.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity in your voice.

He moved closer, placing his hands casually on the counter beside you, his body barely separate from yours. “You,” he said bluntly, his voice dropping lower. “Watching you cook, has me thinking about our future together… it’s making it impossible to focus.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “A future together?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the implication. “Like what?”

Ayato’s lips curled into a confident, knowing smile. “Like this. You, in our home, doing all these wifely things, making our space feel warm and lived-in…” His voice was laced with a quiet heat as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. “I can already see it—us—with kids running around, your laugh filling the halls, hearing the sound of little feet chasing each other.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, and you froze for a moment, feeling his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm that matched the rapid pace of your own.

Ayato didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips captured yours in a kiss—slow at first, but quickly turning deeper as his hands slid around to your back, pulling you even closer. His desire was palpable, every movement of his hands speaking louder than his words ever could.

When he pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his hands still on you as he looked down at you with a knowing smile. “I can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse. “Seeing you like this, talking about our future… I want it, more than anything. And I want you... right here, right now.” His eyes darkened with desire. “I can’t stop thinking about it—thinking about you.”

You shivered at his words, your chest tightening with anticipation. His boldness, his forwardness—it wasn’t something you were used to seeing from Ayato, and yet in this moment, it made your heart race. You felt the weight of his desire, the rawness of it, and it ignited something in you as well.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding along the curves of your body with a sense of urgency. “You’re going to drive me mad if you keep looking at me like that,” he growled. “I can already picture it, I want it all.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, and without thinking, you pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely, giving into the heat between you. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you up against him as his desire burned hotter.

And as he kissed you with an intensity you hadn’t expected, you realised that this wasn’t just about the moment. It was about the future you were both already imagining together—the family, the home, the life—and Ayato was determined to make that future as real as possible.

The thought of a life together, full of passion, warmth, and the sound of children’s laughter echoing through your shared home, consumed him completely. And as he held you close, he knew he would stop at nothing to make that future a reality.

Ayato's hands slide down your sides, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touches. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. "I want you so badly," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he starts to tug it upward, his fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You shiver at his touch, arching into him as he leans down to trail kisses along your collarbone.

"I can't wait to see you round with my child," he breathes against your skin, his hand splaying across your belly. "To know that I put them there."

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the kitchen counter, and with a swift movement, he lifts you onto it, stepping between your parted thighs.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his hands already working to remove your clothes.

The intensity of Ayato's desire is palpable as he stands between your parted thighs, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin as he slowly strips away your clothing, revealing more and more of you to his appreciative eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "So perfect."

His fingers trace the curve of your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, craving more of his touch. He obliges, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His other hand slides down your stomach.

Ayato's hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. You gasp at the contact, your hips lifting instinctively seeking more of his touch. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"So eager," he teases, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against your slick folds.

He circles your clit with a feather-light touch, making you whimper and squirm beneath him. Your head falls back against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself to the sensation of his skilled fingers.

"Please," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand, seeking more friction.

Ayato obliges, sliding a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out of your pussy. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing him deeper.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encourages, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. "Let me make you feel good."

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl. You cry out, your grip on his hair tightening as pleasure courses through your veins.

"You're so tight," he groans, his own arousal evident in the way his hips grind against yours. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He adds a third finger, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. Your body trembles on the edge of release, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Ayato's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"That's it, beautiful," Ayato muses, "Look so pretty like this-"

His words, combined with the skillful movements of his fingers, are enough to send you over the edge. Your body tenses, your back arching off the counter as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, your inner walls clenching around Ayato's fingers as you ride out the intense sensations.

Ayato doesn't stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. As you start to come down from your high, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet," he murmurs, licking your essence from his fingers. "I could do that forever if you let me."

Before you can catch your breath, he's removing his own clothes, not taking long to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.

"Need to be inside you-" he groans, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

He steps between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

Ayato slowly pushes into you, his cock stretching you deliciously. You moan at the sensation of being filled, your walls clenching around him. He groans at the tight heat enveloping him, his hips pressing forward until he's fully seated inside you.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So perfect."

He starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, stoking the embers of your desire once more.

Ayato's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to bring you maximum pleasure. His hands roam over your body, caressing every curve and dip as he loses himself in the feel of you.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

His words, coupled with the tender way he makes love to you, bring tears to your eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him.

"Show me," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair. "Show me how much you love me."

Ayato's response is to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he continues to move within you. The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you're sharing.

"I'll always love you," he vows against your lips. "Always."

As he speaks, his thrusts become more urgent, more passionate. You can feel the coil of pleasure building once more in your core, your body responding to his every move.

Ayato's thrusts become more urgent, more passionate, as he loses himself in the feel of you. But even as he chases his own pleasure, his mind is filled with thoughts of the future, of the life you'll build together.

"I want this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want us, together, forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning, to come home to you every night."

His hand slides down to your stomach, pressing gently against the soft skin. "I want to see you round with my child, to watch you grow and change as our family grows."

The thought sends a shiver of excitement through you, and you cling to him tighter, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. “I want that too-”

Ayato's response is a low growl, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he pounds into you, chasing his release.

Ayato's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, as he chases his climax. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

"I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine."

His words send a thrill through you, and you clench around him, urging him on. "Yes," you gasp, "Please-"

With a final, powerful thrust, Ayato buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release triggers your own orgasm.

As Ayato empties himself inside you, your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for every last drop. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your juices gush around his length, coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, yes," Ayato groans, his hips twitching as he feels your release, his hips grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of pleasure. "Take it all, baby. Take all of me."

He continues to thrust shallowly, drawing out your climax, his own cock pulsing with aftershocks. Your inner walls ripple around him, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the intense sensations.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and appreciative. "So perfect, like you were made for me, weren't you?"

As the last waves of pleasure subside, Ayato leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you as his own. You moan into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you've just shared. Ayato's hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, your skin still slick with sweat.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

You smile against his mouth, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you too," you whisper back. "Always and forever."

જ⁀ when you take care of him - 1.9k

Wriothesley leaned back against the pillows, a picture of reluctant vulnerability—a rare sight, his usual sharp confidence dulled by the grip of a stubborn cold. He’d fought tooth and nail to convince you he didn’t need anyone fussing over him, but his protests had crumbled under your firm insistence. So now, he was stuck with you at his bedside, his gruff pride no match for your stubborn resolve.

You place a tray alongside him, holding soup, and a few other remedies. "Alright, let's get you sorted," you said, scooping up a spoonful of broth and extending it toward him.

He looked back at you, his brow furrowed with stubborn defiance, but you only hitched an eyebrow in silence.

He let out a long, aggrieved sigh and grumbled under his breath before he leaned forward and took the spoonful, holding it longer in his mouth than was really necessary, his eyes latched onto yours. His cheeks already flushed with fever, coloured a fraction darker, but he acted like he didn't notice.

"See? That wasn't so bad," you teased your voice soft as you reached up to sweep a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

His jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat, looking away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. Something about the way you touched him-so gentle, so deliberate-had him feeling unstably off-balance.

His pulse raced, a heat coiling low in his stomach, that left an evident reaction under the blankets that he desperately tried to will away. Mortified by his reaction, he reached for a cushion and shifted it onto his lap, with forced nonchalance.

"You don't need to babysit me," he grumbled, his voice hoarse, and he refused to meet your gaze. "I'll be alright. You've got much more important things to attend to."

“Oh, nice try,” you replied with a wry smile, holding another spoonful toward him. “You’re stuck with me until I’m satisfied that you’re actually resting. So stop pretending you’re not secretly grateful.”

His lips parted, but whatever retort he’d planned died on his tongue as he met your gaze. There was no teasing in your eyes now, only a quiet tenderness that made his chest tighten. You cared-truly-and it was overwhelming in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Why are you doing all this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, giving away a flicker of something unguarded.

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the skin that flushed there. "Because you deserve it," you said, so simply. "Even if you're too stubborn to admit it."

He inhaled sharply, his hold on the cushion tightening as the touch of your hand warmed through him and sent a jolt of something far from comforting through him. His mind was racing as the tension betrayed his attempts to keep composed. The hell is wrong with him? He thought. This isn't supposed to feel like… this.

But you noticed. The way his jaw tensed, the subtle shift under the blankets—it was impossible to miss. A mischievous spark lit up in your eyes, and you leaned in just a fraction closer.

“Wrio,” you murmured, your tone laced with playful curiosity. “Are you… turned on right now?”

His head whipped toward you, his wide eyes betraying his panic. “What—no! I mean… maybe? Fuck, I don’t know,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.

You bit back a grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Aww,” you cooed, your voice teasing. “The big, tough Warden, all flustered over a little care? How adorable.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face burning crimson as he glared at you—though the heat in his gaze betrayed something far less menacing. "It's not like that."

"Oh, really?" you said, leaning in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Then what is it like, Wriothesley?"

He swallowed, his eyes darting to yours before dropping again. "It's... it's nothing," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "Just a stupid physical reaction, that's all."

"Mmm, I see," you hummed, reaching out to trace a finger down his jawline. "And by that, what you're trying to tell me is that right now it's not crossing your mind how nice it would feel to be taken care of by someone else? Make you feel better?"

He let out a shaking breath as his eyes darkened to meet yours. "I- I don't." he stammered, words trailing off as he fought for a coherent thought.

"It's alright," you whispered, a small smile on your lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Wriothesley. You want this, don't you? You want me to make you feel good."

His breath hitched, and his chest began to rise and fall more and more rapidly as he stared at you, pupils dilated with arousal. "Yes," he breathed, his voice rough from need. "God, yes, I do."

Your heart was racing, your own desire a mirror of his while you leaned in closer, your lips just inches from his. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured.

He emitted a low groan; his body quivered in anticipation. "Please," he whispered, voice raw with need. "Please, I need you."

You reached underneath the duvet, your fingers tracing over his hot skin, tracing the lines of his toned stomach. He shivered beneath your touch, breathing in short, ragged gasps as you explored his body.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips bucking up against your hand. "That feels so good."

You smirked, your fingers dipping lower, teasing the waistband of his boxers. "Is that so?" you purred, your eyes glinting with mischief.

As you freed his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers you couldn't help but marvel at the sight. His cock, thick and hard, proudly standing to attention. A drop of precum glistened from the tip of his cock, his need evident.

You swirled your thumb around the head, smearing the slick fluid and drawing a shudder from Wriothesley. "Mmm, look at you," you purred, low and husky.

He let out a choked noise, eyes fluttering shut as he fisted his hands in the sheets.

"Please," he pleaded, voice raw with need. "Please, touch me."

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke from base to tip. His cock twitched in your hand, another drop of precum beading at the slit. He bucked against your hand, his hips rocking in time with your movements.

"That's it," you murmured, your thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

He nodded, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to your touch. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as you worked him over.

You smirked, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock. He shuddered beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair as you licked a slow stripe up his length.

"Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.

With that, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down. He let out a strangled cry, his hips thrusting up to meet your movements.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him deeper, your nose nestling into the hair at the base of his cock. He was throbbing in your mouth, his precum coating your tongue as you worked him over.

"Fuck-" he gasped, voice ragged with pleasure. "Your mouth feels amazing."

You hummed around his shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

As you continued to suck and lick at Wriothesley's throbbing cock, your free hand drifted lower, cupping his heavy balls. You rolled them gently in your palm, feeling their weight, savouring the way they twitched at your touch.

Wriothesley let out a low groan, his hips bucking up into your mouth. "Fuck, that feels good," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

You hummed in return, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. Your fingers massaged his balls, delicate flesh kneaded as you worked him over.

He was leaking steadily now, his precum coating your tongue as you sucked him deeper. The taste of him filled your senses: musky, masculine. It was intoxicating - your own arousal growing with each passing second.

"God-" he panted, his hands fisting in your hair. "I'm getting close."

You redoubled your efforts, your head bobbing faster as you took him to the back of your throat. Your fingers squeezed his balls, feeling them draw up even tighter as his climax approached.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice ragged. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With one final thrust of his hips, he exploded in your mouth, ropes of cum filling your throat as he cried out in ecstasy.

You swallowed it all, milking him through his orgasm until he was spent and trembling beneath you. Finally, you released him from your mouth, licking your lips as you pulled back.

As Wriothesley came down from his high, you couldn't help but tease him just a little bit more. 

You lightly ran your tongue over the sensitive head of his cock, licking up the last of his release. He shuddered beneath you, his over-sensitive flesh twitching at every light touch.

"Ah!" he gasped, jerking his hips without meaning to. "Too much, I can't—"

You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you continued your sweet torment. Your tongue swirled around the tip and he whimpered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tried to push you away, but you held firm, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from his spent body.

"I could do this all day." you purred, breath hot against his skin.

He let out a strangled laugh, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're a fucking tease," he grumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.

You smiled, giving the head of his cock one final kiss before releasing him from your mouth. Sitting back, you licked your lips as you took in the view he presented-flush-cheeked, panting, eyes glossed over with satisfaction.

"Someone's gotta take care of you," you murmured, your voice husky. "And I'm more than willing to volunteer for the job."

You leaned down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Wriothesley's lips. He sighed into the kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer. It was a tender moment, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had come before.

You drew back, staring into his eyes, the warmth and affection glowing within. "How are you feeling?" you asked, softly. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and he smiled. His hand came up to overlay yours. "Better," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Much better, thanks to you."

You leaned in, nuzzling his nose with yours. "I aim to please," you teased, your eyes sparkling merrily.

He chuckled and shook his head in mock exasperation. "You're hopeless" he mumbled, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.

જ⁀ seeing you wearing his clothes - 2.6k

Neuvillette opened the door, exhaling softly as he stepped into the quiet of his home. After a day full of formalities, courtroom battles, and endless patience, the relief of finally being in his own space was palpable.

He set his coat aside, running a hand through his hair to loosen the constraints of his usually perfect appearance. But as he looked up, whatever was left of his exhaustion was washed clean by the sight of you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts.

You looked up and smiled softly, but the sight of you in his clothes, settled comfortably into his personal space, had him frozen in place. The shirt fell just a little too loose on your frame, sleeves slipping past your wrists, and the hem brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough to spark his desire. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, mingling with your own warmth, making something in him stir deeply.

A glint of intensity appeared in his eyes as he took a slow step forward, watching as your expression shifted, noticing the effect you’d unknowingly had on him. His gaze grew darker, the usual restraint crumbling as he drank in the sight of you in his clothes—his shirt, on you.

“You… have no idea what that does to me,” he murmured, his voice deepening with a possessive edge as he came to stand over you. His eyes roamed slowly from the collar falling off one shoulder to your bare legs curled beneath you.

Before you could respond, he was leaning down, caging you in his arms, his hands gripping the back of the couch as he hovered close, his breath warm against your ear. “It suits you, you know,” he whispered, his voice a blend of softness and possessive heat. “But you know what else? I think I’d rather be peeling it off you.”

His hands slid around your waist, tugging you closer as his lips grazed your neck in a mix of reverence and need. The weariness of his day forgotten, overcome by that fire that urged him to make sure you knew just how much you belonged to him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his voice raw as he pressed you against him. "I need this-

His fingers traced your waist, savouring the feel of soft fabric clinging to your form, but even more so, the sensation of you underneath. You could feel his heartbeat against you, the strong, steady rhythm betraying his calm exterior as his lips found a place on your shoulder- your neck, lingering as if to imprint this moment to memory.

Your hands lightly rested against his chest as he pressed closer, his eyes going dark, unguarded in the display of how far his longing had overcome him. "Every time I come home, I find myself hoping to see you like this," he murmured, voice low and husky. "So close… so undeniably mine.

His eyes, with fierce tenderness, burned as his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, angling your face up to meet his. For a moment longer, his eyes held yours before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and fiercely tender.

Neuvillette's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer, as his lips moved against yours with a fervour that bordered on desperation. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted him access, he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.

"You taste like home," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Like everything I've ever wanted."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing the curves he knew so well.

His hands slid up your sides, tracing the hem of the shirt as it brushed against your thighs. "You look so beautiful like this, so perfectly mine."

He leaned in, nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply. "I want to make love to you, right here, with you wearing nothing but my shirt."

His hands slipped under the fabric, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched.

Neuvillette's hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he claimed your mouth in another searing kiss. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss.

He carried you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. When he reached the bed, he laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

"You drive me wild," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Seeing you in my shirt, wearing my scent... it's almost too much to bear."

His hands slid under the shirt, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched. He trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point, making you gasp.

"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way possible."

His hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your breasts. He dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until it hardened under his touch. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your folds, teasing you slowly.

Neuvillette's lips closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud. His hand continued to stroke you, his fingers teasing your folds, dipping inside you slowly.

He could feel your breath hitching, your body arching into his touch. He released your nipple with a soft pop, blowing cool air over the wet skin, making you shiver.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "So responsive, so beautiful."

His hand slid up your body, pushing the shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. He kissed a trail up your sternum, his lips brushing the underside of your chin before capturing your mouth in another deep, passionate kiss.

His fingers continued their teasing dance between your legs, stroking and circling, building the tension within you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body begging for more.

"Tell me how I can please you." he whispered against your lips.

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at you, his hand still teasing your folds. "Anything, mon amour," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I would do anything to please you, to make you feel good."

His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He captured your earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. "I want to worship every inch of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. 

His fingers continued their skilled ministrations, stroking and teasing, building the tension within you. He could feel your hips rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.

"That's it, mon amour," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Let go, let yourself feel everything. I've got you.”

Neuvillette's fingers glided expertly through your slick folds, teasing and stroking, building the tension within you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild with desire.

His thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, two of his fingers pushed inside you, curling upwards to stroke that spot deep within that made your toes curl.

He set a steady rhythm, his fingers moving in and out, in and out, his thumb continuing its maddening circles. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body responding to his touch.

He angled his fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. His thumb increased its pressure on your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You're so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure," he growled, his own desire evident in his voice.

"Wanna make you feel good too-"

He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so that your pussy was hovering right above his mouth and you were met with his crotch.

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed up at you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Then take what you need, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your core.

He pulled you down, his tongue delving between your folds, licking and sucking, tasting your essence. His hands gripped your ass, holding you in place.

You reached down, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock sprang free, the tip already glistening with precum.

Neuvillette's breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly. "Please-" he groaned, his hips bucking up into your touch.

You lowered your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the precum from the tip of his cock. Neuvillette groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.

You wrapped your lips around his thick shaft, taking him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, sucking and licking, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

Neuvillette's hips rocked up to meet your movements, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, just like that," he groaned.

Neuvillette moaned into your folds as he lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him, his fingers digging into your flesh.

He could feel your juices coating his tongue, your scent filling his senses, driving him wild with desire. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside you.

His nose brushed against your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue curling to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. He could feel you trembling above him, your moans filling the room.

"Come for me, mon amour," he growled against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "Let go, let me feel you."

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers pumping in and out of you, faster and harder.

He could feel your thighs trembling against his face, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He knew you were close, could feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your folds.

Neuvillette felt your body tense above him, your walls clamping down around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you. He lapped at your clit, prolonging your pleasure, his fingers gentling their movements as you rode out the waves of your climax.

He continued to lap at your folds, cleaning up your cum, his tongue swirling and flicking, bringing you down from your high.

But Neuvillette remained strong, not letting himself get close, wanting to finish inside you.

As you came down from your high, Neuvillette slowly released your thighs, his hands caressing your skin as he pulled back. His cock throbbed, aching for release, but he ignored it, his focus solely on your pleasure.

He sat up, turning you around and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavour mingling with his own unique taste.

"I need to be inside you," he growled against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "I need to feel you, all of you."

He laid you back on the bed, his body covering yours, his cock nestling against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, seeking permission, seeking connection.

You nod.

With a slow, steady push, he sank into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length.

"Ah, sweetheart-" he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "You feel incredible, so tight, so perfect."

He began to move, his hips rocking against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, deeper and harder with each movement.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I love you so so much-"

His pace increased, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he chased his release. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving marks of his passion, his possession.

Neuvillette's teeth sank into your shoulder, marking you as his, as he thrust into you with wild abandon. His hips slammed against yours, his cock driving deep inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

"Mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine, now and forever."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your body responding to his every move.

He angled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you scream his name. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Come with me, angel" he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."

Neuvillette could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against yours, his fingers rubbing your clit harder, faster.

His teeth sank into your shoulder again, his mark claiming you, possessing you, as his thrusts became erratic, his movements losing their rhythm.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, ropes of cum flooding you, your name a prayer on his lips.

As Neuvillette's orgasm crashed over him, you could feel your own release building, your walls clamping down around his pulsing cock. Your body trembled beneath him, your moans filling the room as you rode out the waves of your climax.

Your back arched off the bed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him close as you came undone. Your inner walls rippled around his length, milking him, drawing out every last drop of his seed.

"Neuvillette!" you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you.

Neuvillette held you close, his arms wrapping around you, his body shaking with the force of his own release. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name over and over again.

Neuvillette held you close as you both came down from your highs, your bodies entwined, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, his lips trailing over your skin like a whisper.

"I love you, angel," he murmured, his voice low and tender. "I love you more than anything in this world."

He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His hand stroked your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"You are my everything," he whispered, his arms tightening around you. "My heart, my soul, my reason for being."

He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

"Rest now, mon amour," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

જ⁀ watching you fight - 2.6k

The air heavy with the scent of battle and the sharp crackle of elemental energy. Wanderer’s movements were graceful and precise as always, his slender figure darting between foes with deadly elegance. But his focus wasn’t entirely on the fight.

No, his attention was locked on you.

You fought with a raw intensity, every strike you made sharp and calculated, every movement full of purpose. The way you moved, the way you commanded the space around you, was captivating. With every swing of your weapon, you demonstrated your strength and your resilience, your utter refusal to back down. The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Wanderer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you.

Each time you dodged an attack, countered an enemy, or dispatched another foe with ease, his chest tightened with something he wasn’t quite used to—something primal.

He had always admired your strength, but this—this—was something different. The sight of your passion, your raw determination, made him ache with desire.

You caught his eye in the midst of a battle, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. He saw the way your lips curled in a confident, almost defiant smile as you took down an enemy, and it hit him like a jolt of electricity. His body tensed, a heat flooding his chest as he watched you finish the last enemy off with a powerful blow.

The battle ended in a flash of elemental power, and then there was silence. The only sound was your heavy breathing, while the air still hung heavy with the remnants of a fight. Wanderer didn't tear his eyes from you as he stared at the mess your hair was in, at the droplets of sweat glinting upon your skin. You were standing tall, victorious, and you radiated an undeniable strength that stirred something in him—a hunger he couldn’t push away.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, turning to face him with a breathless smile. “Not bad, huh?” you said, your voice teasing, but there was an edge of satisfaction in it.

Wanderer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes raked over you with an intensity that was impossible to miss. There was something about the way you fought, the way you carried yourself that made it impossible for him to ignore how turned on he was. He couldn’t shake the image of you fighting by his side, every graceful movement making his pulse race.

His eyes gleamed with something darker now, and when he spoke, his voice was rough, low, like he was tasting the words before they left his mouth.

“You have no idea,” he said, his gaze moving over you slowly, like a predator studying its prey. He let the words hang between you, heavy with intent. “The way you fight... the way you move, like nothing else matters but the battle... it’s...” He let out a soft, almost dismissive laugh, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice. “It’s intoxicating.”

His gaze drifted to the blood on your clothes, the way your chest heaved with each breath, the way your muscles flexed beneath the sweat and the grime of the fight. The blood—yours or theirs, it didn’t matter—only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest, igniting something that had been simmering beneath the surface.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you with purpose. “You look... different,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, a low growl in the back of his throat. “Tired, yes. But also more... alive.” His eyes locked with yours, holding your gaze, the unspoken words between you as thick as the sweat on your skin. “I can see it in your eyes—the rush, the satisfaction from victory.”

You could feel his presence closing in, his body just a hair’s breadth away from yours, his every movement sharp and deliberate. There was no longer any space between you two, the battlefield forgotten, the dead enemies fading into the background as he loomed over you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

He was studying you now, watching the way your body reacted to his proximity, the slight catch in your breath as you stood tall, still proud in your exhaustion. Wanderer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that what you wanted, doll?” His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with a hunger that made your heart race. “For me to look at you like this? Wanting you, seeing you in a way that’s... less respectful and more... desperate.”

A shudder ran through you at the sound of his voice, at the words that lingered in the air between you two. You wanted to push him away, but your body—your senses—were screaming for more. This was different. This was dangerous, thrilling, and you couldn’t deny the pull.

He reached out, his fingers grazing along your jawline, tracing the curve of your cheek. The touch was light, almost feather-soft, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

“But I think we both know that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” His voice was a purr, a low, seductive sound that made your heart race. “To be seen, to be desired, to be... wanted.”

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. “Well I want you-”

His hand slid down your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging gently. “So tell me, are you ready to give in? To let me have my way with you, right here, right now, where anyone could see?”

His other hand trailed down your side, his touch possessive, claiming. He was so close, his body pressed against yours, his desire palpable in the air between you.

You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hardness of his muscles, the way he seemed to radiate power and hunger. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body responding to his touch even as your mind screamed at you to resist.

But you couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, to consume you, to make you his in every way possible.

So you surrendered, your lips parting in a silent invitation, your body arching into his touch. And as his lips crashed against yours, you knew that there was no going back and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, a sharp, sudden sting that made him gasp. His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word muffled against your mouth. "So eager, aren't you?"

His hands tightened in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

"That how you wanna’ play it, huh?" he murmured, his voice husky, laced with promise. He nipped at your lip in retaliation, a quick, sharp bite that sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing down your spine.

His hands roamed your body, mapping out your curves. He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, teasing, taunting.

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for the waistband of your pants. His fingers hooked into the fabric, and with a swift, practised motion, he tugged them down, letting them pool around your ankles.

You stepped out of them, now clad in just your shirt and underwear. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Scaramouche's gaze as it raked over your body.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I could just eat you up."

His hands slid up your legs, his touch searing even through the thin fabric of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down slowly, teasingly.

As he revealed you to him, inch by tantalising inch, his breath hitched. "God, look at you," he murmured, his voice reverent, awed. "So fucking perfect."

His hands mapped out your thighs, your hips, your stomach, worshipping every curve, every dip. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your hipbone, then trailing his lips lower.

"Gonna make you feel so good, baby," he promised, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Gonna make you forget everything but the feeling of my mouth on you."

And with that, he sealed his lips over your clit, and the world fell away, leaving only sensation, only pleasure, only him.

His tongue traced the seam of your folds, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shivers racing up your spine. He savoured the taste of you, the musky sweetness that was uniquely yours. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he explored every inch of you.

He started with broad strokes, his tongue lapping at your folds, coating them with his saliva. Then, with agonising slowness, he zeroed in on your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tormenting.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled against your flesh. "I could spend hours just worshipping this pretty little pussy."

He punctuated his words with a long, slow lick, from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop of your essence. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp and arch your hips.

His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.

"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Let me hear you. Let the whole world know how good I make you feel."

He redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs trembled, your abs clenched, and you could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Come for me, doll" he purred.

And with a final, hard suck on your clit, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing, your juices flooding his mouth as he lapped them up greedily, prolonging your pleasure.

He didn't stop until he was sure you were spent, until the last aftershocks had faded away. Only then did he pull back, his chin glistening with your essence, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

He grabbed your hips, spinning you around with surprising strength. Before you could react, he had you pressed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his body flush against your back.

His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, kneading it roughly. The other slid between your legs, fingers delving into your still-slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit.

He thrust two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly, torturously. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around it, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazed your flesh, not quite breaking the skin, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you.

His free hand moved to his pants, undoing them with practised ease. The sound of a zipper being pulled down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the forest. Then, he was tugging his cock free, the hard length pressing against your ass.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grinding against you. "So fucking perfect."

He lined himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

"Last chance to back out, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

He waited, his body tense, poised on the edge of control. He wanted you, needed you, but he would wait. He would give you one last chance to refuse him, to deny him what he craved most.

But deep down, he knew you wouldn't. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need, the hunger. You wanted this just as much as he did, and he could feel it in the way your body trembled against his, the way your hips canted back, silently begging for more.

"Please what, baby?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Please fuck you?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin.

"Or please stop?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "Please don't give you what you so desperately need?"

The tip slowly pushed through your folds, but no more. He was so big, so hard, you knew he'd completely stretch you open.

“Stop being an idiot and fuck me-” you muttered.

With a low chuckle, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the forest, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps.

He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building higher and higher, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you. Let the whole damn world know who’s fucking you-"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in his core, threatening to consume him entirely. He could feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing his cock.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Gonna make you mine."

His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed tight, firm circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come with me, baby," he demanded, his voice a dark, commanding growl.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and twitching as he filled you with his cum, sending you over the edge with him.

You came with a scream, your body convulsing and shaking in his arms. He held you close, his hips still rocking, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," he panted, his voice ragged and raw. "That's my good girl."

He peppered your neck with kisses, his teeth grazing your skin. "You did so well, baby.”

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body wrapped around his. Finally, with a soft groan, he pulled out, his now softening cock slipping from your pussy.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And then maybe round two when we're inside, hmm?"

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[ishikawayukis]

people being deliberately obtuse when it comes to understanding why people are upset about this ysl blush shit is gonna drive me insane

[ebodebo]

The Bewitching

—thinking about roommate!simon riley seeing you in your halloween costume… MDNI

"Where's your sexy roommate anyway, babe?" Your friend, dressed as a sexy witch, purred from her spot on a stool around the kitchen island. You had invited two friends over to spend Halloween with you since your roommate, Simon, had to work.

"He, uh, had to work," you say, taking a sip of your wine. Your witchy friend's eyes widened as she carefully dipped a pita chip into some hummus.

"On Halloween?" She gawked, pushing the chip into her mouth, eyes wide. You also take a chip and swirl it around in the hummus before shrugging.

"Seems so," you say, inhaling the chip. You turn to pull open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of champagne. Once you turn back, you see your other friend dressed as a sexy police officer, head slightly titled in confusion, her eyes carefully observing your costume.

"So, what are you supposed to be? A sexy nurse?" She questions. You raise your brows, perplexed that she couldn't tell who you were.

"You're kidding, right?" You urge, waiting a minute before continuing to see if she is joking. She shakes her head no, pursing her lips. You shake your head in disbelief. "Debs, I'm one of the nurses from Silent Hill."

"Should've gotten Simon to dress as pyramid head," your sexy witch friend instantly says. You flick your eyes to hers to see a smirk spreading on her lips.

"Oh, please," you laugh out. "Over his dead body would he ever willingly dress up." You take a sip of your wine, stalling when you hear the sound of a familiar truck pulling into the driveway.

"Oh, looks like your big guy is home," Debs winks. You roll your eyes, set your wine glass down, and head for the front door. You step out to see Simon searching for something in his truck.

"Hey," you greet. "What're you doing back so early?" He doesn't avert his attention from some loose papers he was scanning over.

After a minute, he says, "Price had a Halloween thing for his kid." He continues sifting through loose papers. "So, here I am," he dryly says, eyes still focused on the papers.

"Okay. FYI, the girls are inside—" You start before he interrupts, finally turning around to face you.

"If you want, I can just go to a bar, or—" He abruptly stops, eyes wandering down your body, taking in your costume—which included a very provocative dress. He swallows deeply as his eyes sweep over your exposed thighs, up to the deep dip of your breasts on display.

"Simon?" You prod, trying to understand why he has stopped speaking. He drags his eyes up to look into yours.

"You—what are you supposed to be?" He lazily questions.

"Um, a nurse," you say; he tilts his head to the side.

"Never seen a nurse look like that," he sticks his tongue out to wet the seam of his dry lips. You feel a sudden rush of embarrassment.

"It's from a—a game," you quickly say, rocking back on the heels of your feet. "It's kind of stupid," you turn your head away from him, trying to hide some embarrassment from his gaze.

"I like it," his eyes shamelessly drag down the length of your body. You flick your eyes back to him, offering him a small smile, noting the way his eyes become darker as the seconds pass.

"Ya?" You're shocked that you managed to get a word out since your mouth had turned to ash. Dry as a bone.

"Mhm," he hums as he takes a step towards you. You swallow hard as he steps closer to you, close enough for his fingers to graze the hem of your dress, tugging it down gently so it covers a little more of your thighs.

"Simon," you breathlessly say as you feel his fingers graze your bare skin.

"Dress ridin' up a little high," he murmurs, though he doesn't take his fingers away from you. He looks down at you, taking in your lazily closed eyes. "Have you gone out yet?"

"Wha—no. Didn't really want to," your tone is a little wobbly now as his hand slowly skimmed under your dress. You release a shallow breath.

He tilts his head back slightly. "No? What is it you wanted to do then?" He continues his movements, skimming his fingers up your thigh, slowly maneuvering between them. You find yourself gripping his shoulders. "Huh?" He tuts.

"I don't—I don't know," you choke out, dropping your head slightly as his hand grazes your cunt over your already wet underwear. You find yourself pushing yourself into his palm.

He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath grazing against the shell of your ear. "Did you want me to see you in this little outfit?" He whispers. You lean into his words flowing in your ear. "You knew how badly I wanted to touch this pretty pussy. Didn't you?" You let out an involuntary moan at his words, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

His pointer and middle finger slip into you through your underwear, grazing your clit. You find yourself rocking against his fingers to get more friction. "Ah, fuck. That's it, pretty girl," he groans, moving his fingers faster. "Keep fucking my fingers—just like that."

He pulled you closer onto him with his other hand, gripping your ass tightly to get you more friction. You leaned your head into his chest, moaning as his fingers continued to move in you.

"Fuck, baby. Look at me—look at me," he commands. You flick your head up to look him in the eyes; his mouth is slightly parted from panting. "Just like that," he pants, watching your mouth agape as he coaxes your orgasm, making you come in your underwear.

He holds you up as your body spasms, gifting him with the sweet mewls you spew. Once your orgasm subsides, he grips one side of your soaked underwear, slipping it down your thighs and tucking it into the pocket of his cargo pants he wore.

You look up at him, doe-eyed, before you look around in horror. "Oh my—you just, you just fingered me in the front yard," you frantically say, taking a step away from him. His lip quips at your genuine anguish.

"I know. I was there," he monotonously says. Anxiously, you bring your hands to thread through your hair. Your eyes widen even more.

"Oh my—my friends," you exclaim, whipping your head to your house.

"Guess you'll have some explaining to do," he casually says.

"Fuck you," you remark.

"Hungry for more already?" He smirked, pulling you by the arm closer to him so you rested flat against his body.

"No—you know that's not what I meant!"

a/n: happy almost halloween! take my treat to u all! divider!

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[aajjks]

RAW (m)

synopsis. Just Toji fucking you angrily from behind.

warnings: èxplícít smüt, ràw sèx, 18+ thèmès, fúckíng fròm bèhínd, ángry fúckíng, hátè fückíng, mèán tójí, únprótèctèd sèx. mdní

note. HAPPYYYY NEWWWW YEARRRRRRRRRRR GUYSSSSS!!!! let’s start this year with nasty filthy smut. lmao I hope this year will be great for us all mentally butttttt if yall follow me? Your year will be the greatest. <33 please re-blog. And follow me hehe

He’s fucking you so hard it hurts your tightening hole.

Toji Fushiguro’s anger and frustrations always have you laying on your stomach as he fucks you from behind, hard and fast as he grips your as, digging his nails into the fragile skin.

He’s been at it for hours, you don’t understand what has got him so frustrated and angry, but you don’t dare to ask him about that because whenever you do, he shoves something into your mouth and gags you.

“nghhh aghhh ahhh!~” you scream into the mattress as he shows your face deeper into the soft bed, his cock feels so hard.

He’s literally splitting you open, you can hear his labored breathing, his groans, the weight of his body is actually too much, he’s so freaking heavy.

He’s always been a muscular and big guy so this is really a struggle for you right now, but it feels so fucking good too.

That is the problem.

“ugh FUCKKK. This tight hole is fucking good.

His language has always been crude and the way he’s fucking you right now. It’s like he’s punishing you, but this punishment is so confusing because it’s pleasurable and yet so painful.

Your boyfriend is a man who is hard to understand, he loves you, but he also fucks you like he hates you.

His dick will probably kill you.

Hes came inside you so many times. It’s dark out at this hour, but he has no intentions of stopping.

“Oh yn- ugh I’m gonna fuckin cum.” He growls, his voice is going throughout the bedroom, the bedroom reeks of smoke sweat, and sex.

Your body feels like jelly. It’s like you have no energy to mutter a single word out. His hips keep working their pace.

It’s so painful.

You want him to stop but it’s impossible when he’s fucking knew so hard that you are seeing stars. You grip on the mattress tighter. He’s pistoning in and out of you.

Toji stands behind you, his eyes burning with unrestrained fury as he glares at your back.

He’s so angry, as he fucks your hole raw.

His hands are balled into fists, fingers digging into his palms.

He’s not angry at you—not directly… but you can feel it radiating off of him, the heat of his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on?”

he mutters, his voice harsh, like it’s barely holding itself together.

The words aren’t aimed at you, but the way he says them, low, threatening—makes your skin prickle. “You think you can keep pushing me without consequences?”

He steps closer, the air around you tightening as his breath grows heavier. His frustration is palpable, like a storm ready to tear everything in its path.

His voice drops, a growl building in his chest. “I’ve had enough of this shit. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”

He’s so close now, his body looming behind yours, and you can feel the anger and something else, something darker, burning in him.

It’s not just the tension of being forced to hold it in—it’s everything building up that he can’t quite control anymore.

“You’re making me fucking lose it,” he seethes, his voice thick with irritation and raw need.

His hand brushes the small of your back, dangerously close, as if he’s trying to anchor himself in something real. “I don’t know whether to break something or… something else.”

“So gonna fucking break you instead.”

His words send shivers down your spine because you know that he means it and tonight your body is gonna be broken in more ways than one.

His breathing quickens, but it’s not out of desire for you—not entirely. It’s the anger, the frustration spilling over, and he’s taking it out on you, because it’s easier than confronting whatever’s really eating at him.

He’s going to cum again.

You’re driving me crazy,” he mutters, the words sharp and desperate. “And I’m fucking done being patient.”

Every word drips with pent-up aggression, frustration, and an undeniable hunger that mixes with his anger, making him unpredictable and wild.

He has always been unpredictable.

“ASS UP.”

He forces your ass up, angling himself deeper into you as he fucks you both renewed vigor

You’re drooling, he pulls at your hair hard, you’re scalp burns add the sensation, and you let out a yelp of pain, but it changes into a a moan of pleasure as he hits that one particular spot.

“Mhmm yeah you slut admit it you loved me and fucked like this with by me. You know what you are. You are my little fucking doll that I love destroying when I’m angry.”

You mewl, he’s right.

But no words coming out because he’s literally fucking you senseless. And you are loving it.

“This new year better not be shit or else. I’m gonna fucking kill someone.”

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 4th. tom riddle — bondage, begrudgingly!sub tom.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. | 2024

summary: revenge is sweet—but getting tom riddle to beg is so, so much fucking sweeter.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, reader gives tom a lust potion in retribution, PIV, desperate sex, tom so out of sorts he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, so much teasing it’s painful, dirty talk, light bondage, choking.

All is fair in love and war.

This might not be love, but it isn't just war, either. It's something messier, something darker, something with teeth. Every time you and Tom Riddle play this game it seems to follow the same trajectory, almost like a dance—step, feint, clash, retreat—a push and pull, a ritualistic give and take until someone takes a little too much and the tension boils over to something like this. 

A locked door. A stolen breath. His body pressing yours into some surface and his hands on your throat, or in your hair, or at your waist with—

"You did something to me." Growled at your neck. 

Right now, expectedly, is no different.

"What could I possibly have done to you?" You drawl, bored blowing off your breath. "The great Tom Riddle himself."

You want to sound dismissive, condescending—just enough to light a match to his already fraying patience—but Tom is too keyed up to take the bait, and that alone thrills you. You can feel the heat radiating off him. Smell the clean, addictive scent of his hair, the musk of dark magic religiously woven into his skin. 

He smells intense, and it makes you dizzy.

Makes you reckless.

"You’re funny," he exhales, the force of it stirring your hair. He's ripping off his jacket now, rolling up his sleeves like he's ready to wrestle the devil himself. "This is your idea of revenge, isn't it?"

There's a shrug, something vindictive set in your shoulders just to get under his skin that much more—spurred on by the sheer state of him before you; those perfect curls a mess, onyx eyes burning with something primal. 

"This, meaning what, exactly?" You watch the corded tension in his neck tighten as he shoves his hair back, hands visibly unsteady. "You'll have to be more specific."

He lets out a stifled groan from somewhere deep in his chest at that—he's struggling, and he knows you know it, a delicious little factoid that has his patience stretched so thin it's almost see-through—

"You're enjoying this," he snarls, forcing himself over to a nearby loveseat and slumping down into it. His voice is half-hoarse, strangled by the effort it's taking him to keep this much distance between you. "You—fuck."

There we go. 

Unable to stall the grin off your lips any longer, you move forward with something predatory—something devious in each step perfectly placed just to spite him—a deliberate sway of the hips, the slight rise and fall of your chest—anything, really, just to break him that much faster. 

He's right. This is your revenge. 

"Oh, Tom," you creep around behind his chair, lips leaning toward his ear. "Are you feeling alright? You're looking hot."

You take note of the way his jaw pulses as he grinds his teeth. The way that one simple word from your mouth—spoken in the type of low, sultry tone that could make even a dead man hard—affects him.

"You're wicked," his head falls back to look up at you, lips glistening like he's salivating over the mere sound of your voice. Still, he's fighting it—still trying to deny you the satisfaction. "Did you know that?"

"You love it," you murmur, fingers slipping their way over his shoulders, down his chest. You lean closer, catching sight of the sharp bulge straining against his trousers. "Look how much you fucking love it."

Another stifled groan. 

"You don't want to do this, sweetheart," he hisses—and there's the nickname, the nickname you've told him you hate. His way of retaliation. "Not now." 

"And why not?" Your fingers dip lower, tracing over the definition of his abdomen. "Because you're not in control? Or because I am?"

He's fighting himself—you see the war play out on his face in the way his brows knit together—the way his lips part briefly only to swallow back whatever words were about to crawl out of them. 

He's never been very good at being at anyone's mercy, least of all yours. 

"You think you're in control," the words rasp against his throat, as if speaking them too loud might shift the balance. "You're delusional."

"Maybe," you whisper, lips brushing his cheek, the curve of a smirk curling into your voice. "Maybe I'm absolutely batshit." Your hand slips downward, slowly, over his stomach to his belt, fingers ghosting the buckle. "But we both know why you dragged me in here, Tom. Don't we?"

He scowls.

"You—" 

The moment you brush against his bulge with the barest touch, his hips jerk forward—words disintegrating, raw instinct betraying his restraint.

"God, look at you." You nearly choke on the heat between you. If this isn't the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen. "Just admit it, Tommy. Admit you need me to fi—"

You don't get to finish. Something in him snaps—

"Fucking—" he's moving on auto-pilot, hands reaching up to seize you and yank you closer. "—fix this, then." 

In a blink, you're in his lap with his grip on your hips and he's growling—one hand slipping up to the back of your head to fist your hair and force your mouth to his before you get the chance to snap back—

And as soon as your lips collide it's a fight for dominance—teeth clashing as your tongues tangle, both of you biting and pulling at each other like animals. You're grinding against him and he's excruciatingly-hard beneath you and you can practically hear the intensity of it, both of you caught up in the sheer feral force of this—no rhyme or rhythm, no control—just hunger, desperate and unrelenting, like something unleashed that neither of you can put back in its cage.

After all but an eternity of this, you wrench back with force, breaking the kiss and shoving yourself upright. His head falls back against the chair, chest heaving, his lips slick and parted, pupils blown wide and glittering with fury—or lust. You’re sure it’s a bit of both.

He's trying to gain control, his hand still fisted in your hair, arms trapping you in place like he thinks he can still win this. 

But you see him now, raw and undone, and you know better.

"You want me to fix this," you murmur, skating your fingers over his chest lightly enough to make him twitch. "Then put your hands on the armrests."

He wants to fight that, you can tell—wants to yank you back into him, wants to wield that weapon of a tongue—but other things take precedence now, like you, here, on his lap—so close to giving him everything he needs.

You think, to him, the demand must sound less like an order and more like salvation. 

He all but slams his hands down onto the armrests.

You smirk. "Good boy."

Unsurprisingly, he scowls again, a dangerous flash in his eyes—but that doesn't stop his hips from jerking greedily when you grind down against him—fingers digging into the leather underneath them, twitching like they want to make you do it again. 

That doesn't escape your notice. 

"Mm. Just incase." Pulling out your wand, you cast a spell that binds his wrists to the chair. "I know how you are." 

His expression shifts instantly, lips curling back into something like a snarl as he yanks at the invisible binds. They don't budge—your work is seamless—his own spellwork mastered and turned against him.

"I'm going to fucking digest you," he spits, all venom and heat, eyes blazing as he pulls harder. "When I get out of this chair, you'll—oh, you'll beg for-"

You shut him up with your mouth, crushing your lips to his. It's all teeth and tongue, desperate and wild, as your nails rake down his chest and he arches into you—

"Who says I don't like it when you make me pay, baby?" You breathe, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw a groan from deep in his throat. "Maybe it's my favourite part."

For a moment he doesn't respond—he knows that's true. You love this game too much not to toe the line when possibilities arise. He's pulling uselessly at the binds again as you roll your hips against him, dragging him further into ruin.

"You are," he chokes out, head tilting back as your teeth scrape along his jaw, "an infuriating, wicked little witch."

You huff against his skin, against the pulse point at his throat and the sensitive area under his ear—he's squirming—making strangled, animal sounds that have you seeping through your panties. 

"You're only just noticing?" You’re drinking in his hypersensitivity for all it's worth. "You're losing your touch."

He scoffs, or tries to—it comes out closer to a moan stuck between shallow breaths. 

"Noticed it...the day I met you," he gasps, hips jerking up as you rock against him. "But, fuck—you've gotten a hell of a lot worse."

Perhaps he's right. Perhaps it's the company you keep—specifically, the one pinned beneath you. 

"You're just mad I'm beating you at your own game," you’re grinding down harder, fingers drifting to the buttons of your blouse. "You're a terrible loser."

"And you're—" he starts, but his words falter when you pull the last button free and shrug the fabric off your shoulders, exposing black lace and soft skin. "—an insufferable winner."

"I think the real problem," you toss your shirt to the floor, hands returning to slide down his chest again, undoing his buttons now. "Is that you secretly love losing to me." 

You'd think that would earn another snarl from him—or perhaps a sharp retort about how he'd never lose to anyone, or how he’d never enjoy being at your mercy—but he's clearly too far gone to keep up with even that as he watches you, all but trembling at your touch. 

"Stop—“ he twitches when your fingers glide over his exposed chest, trailing lower. "—talking."

"Make me," you make your way to his belt buckle, taking your time to undo it, sliding the leather free before moving to the zipper of his pants, dragging it down even slower. "Oh, wait. You can't."

He’s helpless to fight the growl you force out of him at that—a vicious sound that makes you clench. His fingers tighten around the armrests, yanking hard against the bonds holding him in place. Useless, you both know, but it doesn't stop him from trying, from straining against them like he might will them to break through sheer desperation alone. 

He exhales through his teeth. "Stop teasing." 

"Now where's the fun in that?" you dip your hand below the waistband of his boxers. He jerks beneath you as your fingers tease just enough to make his breath catch. "You should be grateful l'm taking pity on you—" your tone as soft as it is mocking, "—being oh so kind to help-"

Another groan, another almost snarl. "Stop. Teasing." 

Oh, how the tables turn. You know precisely how he's feeling—you've been here like this, with him, a million times before. It’s the sweetest torture. One you’re sure he doesn't want you to stop—not really. Not with a lust potion dripping from his pores. 

He fucking needs this.

"And what happensssss," you drag your words out as your fingers glide slow, featherlight strokes up and down his rock of an erection. "If I don't?"

His response is a wrecked string of profanity—some of it strangled, some of it guttural, and none of it in English. He's not even remotely coherent anymore, and you're not surprised. Eloquence had abandoned him long before you'd even stepped into the room.

"I will—" he hisses through clenched teeth as you tease your thumb over his leaking tip, "— fuck—I will fuck your ass so hard—“

Now that gets a moan from you—the filthiness of his words, at the way his voice drops so dark and low it should probably be a fucking felony. He's swearing, writhing, desperate, and you're absolutely dripping from it—from the way Tom Riddle has unraveled into this devastating, feral thing underneath you.

"Is that what you're thinking about right now?" Another murmur, lips brushing against his ear as you shift to tug his pants and boxers down. "Fucking my tight ass? Punishing me?"

"Without mercy," he spits, breath hitching as you free him—his cock springing out, thick and throbbing, twitching in time with his shallow gasps. "Fuck—"

You pull away to get a better look at him—and god, the sight almost makes you lose your mind. The man always so put together, always so self assured and smug and in control of every goddamn thing—reduced to this. 

"Such a vulgar mouth, for such a pretty face," leaning forward, you lick a slow, deliberate stripe up his neck. He tastes like sweat and sin. Just how you like him. "Tell me more."

"Fuck," his head tips back involuntarily, exposing his throat to you like it's instinct. He's twitching as you grind your slick heat along his shaft, soaking him, teasing him until his hips buck up against you. "Put me inside you—"

You're barely holding onto yourself, every roll of your hips against him leaving you dizzy and aching—but you drag it out, grinding down harder.

"That's an order, isn't it?" You breathe, catching his earlobe between your teeth. "You giving me orders now?"

"I'm giving you pleas," he rasps. "You fed me a potion that's made me so hard it physically aches, and now you're sitting here—fucking teasing me—"

"Retaliation," you reply with a smile. "You're the one who thought it was a good idea to feed me a truth serum before dinner at Malfoy's."

That night still lingers in both of your minds—things involuntarily said that can't ever be unsaid. Things that still make Draco avoid your eyes at every turn.

"A mistake," he grits out. In any other moment, you know he'd be smirking. "A mistake—I'll admit it, fuck-"

"You're not the type to make mistakes," it’s a true statement, one overridden by the feeling of his dick twitching as your hips still, going maddeningly idle. "You wanted the Malfoy’s to know I'm yours. And now, well, now I have to show you that you're mine."

There’s a moments pause at that. One that makes you realize just how loud your pulse is pounding in your ears. Tom looks at you, holding your eyes until—

"I am," he concedes, finally throwing in the towel with a gasp that's half desperation, half devotion. "Yours. So fucking take what's yours."

"Oh, baby," you purr, cupping his cheek in your palm. He leans into it without realizing, like he's starving for your touch. "I always do."

And with that, you rise up—slick soaked inner thighs leaving damp spots against his half pulled down trousers—humming with a smirk as you slide a hand over his chest, nails raking over his skin, holding him down against the chair—

"Be still," an order. "Or I'll take it a hell of a lot slower."

His whole body shudders at that—but does what he's told and keeps still—chest swelling with each shallow breath as he watches you—dark eyes flicking from your lips to your tits to your cunt—muscles straining and wrists firm against their binds. 

"Just—do it," he mutters through parted lips and clenched teeth—squeezing his eyes shut. "Please."

The world stops. Time freezing to nothing. You swear you'd forgotten how to breathe.

Please. Like it's a holy thing, a sacred word to be used only in worship. Like he's said something he's never uttered in his life. Please. Like a prayer, like a begging benediction. You'd never loved the sound of anything from his lips quite like you do that. 

You will hear it again. You long to make him say it until he forgets every other word he knows.

"How could I refuse that?" His eyes fly open as you reach down, gripping his aching length and gliding the head against your soaked slit. "Fuck, you're so big. So hard."

"Hard," he echoes as his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction. "Because this is—torture."

"And whose fault is that, Tommy?" You taunt, just barely sinking down, letting the tip of him sit against what you know he wants. "Oh, that's right. Yours."

"Mine," he grunts before his patience finally snaps in half and he jerks his hips up—shoving his cockhead inside you with a strangled moan. "Fucking mine."

Oh, Merlin help you.

Your head falls back with a moan, eyes slipping shut as the sensation steals the breath from your lungs. He stretches you in the way only he can, and for a moment, you think you should punish him for disobeying you by taking back control—but you can't bring yourself to care about anything other than how fucking good it feels.

"Yours," you breathe, rolling your hips to take him just an inch deeper. "All yours."

"More," his voice cracks, the veins in his neck straining. "Take more. Please."

Theres the word again—please. It makes you weak, makes you greedy. Makes you break and give in on the sheer knowledge of how much it fucking pains him to say it. 

"Oh, gods"" you moan, shifting your hips to take him deeper still, inch by aching inch. "Fuck."

"Take it," he sneers, as if it's his turn to taunt you. Even like this, he's still the same bastard. "You can take more than that."

You curse lowly and sink your nails into his chest for it—because it's the kind of challenge you can't win, even like this you know you'll still lose. He knows it too. 

"I can," you hiss, sinking another inch deeper, and then another. "But can you?"

"Can I?" There’s a mocking lilt to his voice that knows. "Release my wrists, and we'll see."

Christ. That's a question you don't want to answer because you know anything other than yes would be a lie. It's tempting. You know as soon as you let him go he'd put those beautiful hands to use—he'd take back control and you'd immediately let him. Like a lamb to the slaughter. 

Even if this is supposed to be his punishment.  

"Be," you gasp, sinking down all the way and clenching tight as he kisses your cervix. "Quiet."

He lets out a sharp, strangled curse—a guttural string of something you think might either be Latin or Parseltongue—something rough and beautiful all at once—and you decide, right then, that it's undoubtedly the most sinfully delicious thing you've ever heard. 

"I love it when you swear," you manage to breathe out through moans, rolling your hips and savouring the stretch, the ache, the impossible fullness of him inside you. “And I love it even more that it's in languages I don't know—makes me wonder what you're saying."

"Things that'll get me slapped," he grunts, and the tone he uses is the one that promises trouble—trouble, if you let him go. "Or hexed, perhaps."

"Mm. I should hex you right now. I’m considering it," you’re gasping between moans, pleasure buzzing in your brain. "So hard."

"I think, right now," the words split between a groan as your nails leave faint red lines on his shoulders—as you clench around him again, dragging your slick walls up and down his shaft in rhythm. “If you tried to hex me, I’d let you. If it meant you’d keep going.”

You almost take him up on it. You love him like this far too much. So much it’s almost pathetic.

"Good boy." You force the words out, fighting through the sting on your cervix every time he bottoms out inside you, slamming against it. "So. Fucking. Good."

"Jesus Christ," he chokes, muscles taut as the veins in his neck strain. His hips jerk up to meet you at every bounce, greedy for more. "Don't stop."

"Oh, I won't," you dig your nails deeper into his skin for balance. The sting shoots through his body, his reaction delicious. "Not until l've made you swear to every god in the sky."

"Shouldn’t take long," he hisses through his teeth, shoulders cresting as your pace grows faster, more erratic. "I'm practically praying now."

"Good," you breathe, thighs burning as the heat coils tight and relentless inside you, every roll of your hips making you feel fuller, wetter, closer to falling apart. "I want to hear you pray my name."

"You're sadistic," he hisses. "Fuck."

"Pot, kettle," you taunt, biting lightly at the curve of his neck—not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to make him feel it.

The sound he makes—half moan, half growl—is filthy.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You murmur, dragging your lips toward his ear, breath molten. "You like pain. I know you do."

"I'd like to inflict some right about now," his voice breaks as you nip at his earlobe. "My hands on your throat. That smart fucking mouth—"

"Mmm," you hum, rolling your hips slower, deeper. "And what would you do with it?"

"Fill it," his voice is broken, head tipping back as his body begs for release. "Fuck. I'm so fucking close."

"You're filthy when you're desperate," you whisper, dragging your hand up to his throat, fingers wrapping around it, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch. "I fucking love it."

His eyes flash—for a moment, you're not sure how he'll take it—your hand curling around his neck, fingers pressing against the pulse hammering beneath his skin. The unpredictability of him—always teetering between fury and something far more intense—makes you hesitate, even in this state. You wonder if he'll snarl, buck you off, or somehow counteract the spell to rid of the restraints entirely—

But all he does is swallow against it, hips jerking up, cock pressing bruisingly deep—dark eyes fixing on your lips, wild and glassy with want—

And then, he fucking grins. "Tighter."

"Freak," you moan far too loudly, heat pooling low in your belly as you oblige, tightening your grip. You bounce faster, adrenaline fuelling you, panting growing sharper with every wild bounce. "Cum for me."

"Like I have a choice," he rasps, voice shredded, his teeth gritted as his eyes squeeze shut. "Fuck—ffffff—"

The sound he makes when he finally breaks—guttural, filthy, your name torn from his lips—is fucking devastating. Devastating enough to drive you directly to your own orgasm, eyes rolling back and crying out words you aren’t even aware of as he shudders and jerks and tenses underneath you.

"Oh, fuck-yes," you breathe, riding him through it, clenching hard until the aftershocks start to fade out, as you slow your pace. “Tom—“

"God," he gasps, his head falling back in exhaustion, voice stumbling over the word. "God. Fuck."

The incoherence coming from his mouth is a treat—and through your fog, for only the most fleeting of moments, you wonder who exactly he's praying to when he says that.

His chest is rising and falling like he's just run miles, sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. His head rolls forward, eyes still heavy-lidded, and when they meet yours, there's something feral still dangling in their depths. A lingering hunger that makes your breath hitch.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it?" He finally speaks after he finds whatever oxygen is left in the room. "To ruin me?"

You're still seated on him, still full of him, and even now, you can feel him twitch inside you. Strong potion.

You exhale with a smirk, feeling your pulse slow. "You're still in one piece, aren't you?"

He laughs—dark, deep, and utterly sinful. It's the kind of laugh that promises you haven't won anything at all. His wrists flex against the bindings, and you swear the leather creaks.

"For now," his tone is almost gentle, but the fire in his eyes betrays him. "But if you think I'm going to let you walk away after this..." he grins. "You're more delusional than I thought."

Oh, Tom. If you only knew.

[crushmeeren]

heyy idk if this is where we put requests but by any chance could you do the mha boys reacting to you putting on the pheromone perfume and you smelling hella good possibly resulting in something freaky ( denki, shinsou or bakugo) or anyone is fine🙏🏾

⋆⋅ I love this idea! I did twist this a bit, it’s basically the love potion “amortentia,” from Harry Potter but as a perfume. Why the fuck it’s so hard for me to shorten things down when I write, I have no damn idea. So here, have this. (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

All characters aged up/18+. ❲ ̽ ⋆ FEM READER ̽ ⋆❳

⋆⋅ Between the ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ �� ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ symbols are memories of reader and whichever character!

Thank you @pastelbakugou for helping me figure what to write for Shinsou. ( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)

⋆ ft. kaminari, shinsou, bakugou, todoroki ⋆

..⃗. master list link

The sickly sweet scent of vanilla ice cream infused with honey is what overwhelms Katsuki’s senses first when he leans in and hugs you in greeting. You squeeze him back just as affectionately and he’s in the middle of nosing at your throat when he’s hurtled back in time through his memories.

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“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Katsuki mutters hotly. He’s trying, key word trying, to wipe the sweat covering his phone screen onto his tank top but it fails miserably, seeing as how his shirt is soaked fucking through. He’s more or less just smearing it around and he’s debating on just obliterating the useless piece of shit phone.

He curses whoever the fuck is up there and uses sheer willpower not to tear his hair out from the roots because of this scorching heat wave.

Finally, he’s able to read his latest message from you. It tells him to meet you at the ice cream stand nearby his patrol route on his next break.

Katsuki wipes the back of his forehead with a glove free hand, but it slides right across his sticky skin and then sweat drips into his other eye with a harsh sting and goddammit, he’s royally fucking pissed off now.

For your sake, he swallows his swelling rage and makes his way to you swiftly. The two of you have tried to make it a habit to meet a couple times a week when Katsuki has time during his shifts, he gets so busy that sometimes it gets hard to see each other as often as you’d like.

As always, his heart stutters when he lands a few feet from you. The tension drains from his shoulders even as he witnesses drops of sweat being flung off his jaw from the impact of landing and coloring the light gray pavement darker.

You look so, so pretty in your sundress and Katsuki’s stomach swoops when a sweet smile lights up your features. You reach out a cup of ice cream for him to try, teasing him for looking like he’s just taken a shower but he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and takes a bite of the treat. Katsuki practically moans when cool cream melts on his tongue. He feels infinitely better.

The sun beats down harshly on you both, but it brightens your eyes and the playful way you blow a coy kiss at him when you part ways leaves him with fingers crunching the empty cup and pants that fit a bit too snug. God, he’s disgustingly in love with you.

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“Kat?” Your concerned tone brings him back to the present. Katsuki can’t stand another minute with your clothes on and hauls you up with a rough grip to the backs of your thighs. You yelp in surprise and scramble to hold onto his shoulders as he strides towards your bedroom.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to smell this way, but you’re gonna keep your eyes on me and I’m fuckin’ you until you pass out. Understood?”

How could you ever hope to say no?

When you’re both naked and tangled in the sheets, Katsuki pushes one of your legs to your chest, curls his fingers around your throat, and pushes his forehead against yours as he stretches your tight pussy out completely with his thick cock. He stays true to his word, hand gripping your jaw and forcing your eyes to stay locked with his own ferocious stare when you grit your teeth and cum.

Then he kisses your forehead afterwards when you’re fast asleep.

Muscle memory tilts Shouto’s head to the side as he leans closer to sniff you curiously, an adorable habit that he’s never been able to break when he wants answers to something.

“What is that?”

“What is what, Sho?”

“You smell like the end of a campfire. Why?”

You raise an eyebrow and saunter closer to where he sits at his desk, his office quiet with most heroes currently out of the building. You step around the corner of his desk and hop up on the edge to sit next him, feet kicking gently.

“That’s important to you? A campfire? Huh I would’ve thought you’d smell something like soba,” you comment with a shrug, half smile tugging at your lips.

Now Shouto’s thoroughly confused.

“I don’t understand. Why would you smell of soba? Are you alright?” Shouto sounds as deadpan as usual, if not slightly concerned. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, staring at you as if he could find the answer by checking out your body. It makes you laugh.

Animatedly, you explain to him about the new “perfume,” Mina let you try. Apparently, whoever wears it prompts the object of their affections to smell whatever scent is important/attractive to them. And suddenly Shouto gets it

“Oh, I see,” he says with an understanding nod. He can narrow it down specifically as to why you smell of a campfire on a cold night.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Sho, are you sure we can’t just use your quirk to roast these marshmallows? It’s so much faster!” You protest halfheartedly, but you’re already stabbing one of the fluffy sweets with a stick, assembling a second one for Shouto.

“No. This will be more fun, I promise. I watched Touya-nii and the others do this once, it seemed as if they were very happy afterwards.” Shouto flicks his hand and fire shoots towards the pile of sticks, engulfing them until a decent fire roars.

This sobers you considerably, and Shouto sits down next to you, accepting the offering of marshmallow on a stick happily and oblivious to the depressing sentiment he just offered.

So, you roast marshmallows. You tease each other and laugh as you assemble the s’mores and then lean into Shouto’s left side to fend off the chill of the autumn night afterwards. The stars are brighter away from the city and Shouto has always enjoyed the quiet of the countryside. His heart is close to bursting from his chest every time you laugh and he blurts what’s on his mind.

“I love you.”

It comes out of nowhere and Shouto only feels nervous for a few seconds before you return his feelings. Shouto’s dragging you into the tent before you can blink.

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In hindsight, at least to Shouto, he understands exactly why you smell like a campfire. With slightly rosy cheeks and a matter of fact tone, he recounts the memory for you and he’s sure his hair’s about to catch fire from the way you’re looking at him.

Without caring to lock the door, the two of you end up reliving part of that memory.

Shouto pushes you until you’re flat on your back on his desk, sliding your pants off and making sure your ass is on the edge of it. He drops to his knees and eats your pussy until your thighs squeeze his head.

And when you beg him to fuck you, he bends you over the desk and presses his cock inside you roughly. The snaps of his hips are frantic, and when there’s a knock at the door, all Shouto does is cover your mouth with one hand and keep going until you’re seeing stars.

“Denki!”

Said blonde whips around at the muffled call of his name. Denki feels his smile aching in the apples of his cheeks as he watches you weave through the crowd of people on the dance floor to get to him. You grin in return and wave warmly, which makes his pulse run overtime.

“Baby!” Denki almost squeals, yanking you in for a crushing hug when you get close enough. “You made it! I thought you got lost,” he says teasingly against your ear and you lean back to laugh and punch him in the arm. You crowd into his space once again so he can hear you but an overpowering and delicious scent of coffee and rain pushes up Denki’s nose.

He startles, head jerking back and brows shooting up. Your expression turns questioning but Denki cuts you off before you can speak.

“Holy shit baby, you smell super good. Like, fucking amazing! What are you wearing? It makes me want to rip your clothes off,” He says enthusiastically, tangling your hands together in the process.

“Oh! It’s this new perfume. Well, technically it’s not a perfume but honestly I didn’t think it would work! I assumed it was a scam.” You give him a run down of how it’s supposed to work and he suddenly comes to the realization of why you smell like coffee and rain of all things that could be important to him.

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“Oww,” Denki whines, sticking his tongue out and fanning it quickly.

“Did you burn your tongue?” You bump his shoulder playfully, taking care not to spill your own coffee. “I told you it would be hot, it’s a latte Denki,” you scold him good naturedly, trying not to laugh. He pouts at you, blowing into the lid in hopes to cool it off.

“Well I didn’t expect it to be the surface temperature of the sun!” Denki protests, gingerly taking another sip and humming in contentment when he finds it’s cooled off enough to be drinkable. You laugh again, but then Denki almost runs into your back when you stop abruptly in front of the glass door exit.

“It’s raining! Shit, I didn’t bring an umbrella. How are we supposed to make it back to the station?”

Denki studies the way it’s pouring cats and dogs, before making a noise of triumph and pointing to a bench under an awning not too far away.

“We can go wait for a bus over there!”

You side eye him. “Fine, but if I spill my coffee, you’re buying me a new one.”

The two of you take off, and in true Denki fashion, he trips and spills his coffee everywhere. By the time you both make it to the awning, you’re both soaked to the bone and breathless from laughing.

“Here,” you offer Denki your coffee with a grin, water dripping from the ends of your hair.

“You don’t have to share baby, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. I love you, Denki.”

Your boyfriend short circuits.

“Dammit Denki! Those were the only two lampposts on this street, now I can’t see anything!”

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Denki blinks the memory away and spins you, pulling your back flush to his chest. His body is a long, lean line of muscle as he moves your bodies to the beat and murmurs in your ear.

“Let me take you home and show you just how well this perfume works on me, my dick is hard as a fucking rock baby,” Denki giggles, squeezing your hips when you shove your ass back into his pelvis.

The two of you abandon your friends quick enough to race home, stripping carelessly in your living room until Denki can bend you over the armrest of the couch. He guides his cock inside you unhurriedly, pushing until his pelvis is nestled snug to your ass.

A breathy moan escapes him, and then he’s fucking your pussy as if he could never get enough.

He never will.

Hitoshi’s exhausted when he gets home from work late that night. Being an underground hero is rewarding, but it certainly comes with its downfalls.

He closes the front door delicately and toes off his shoes by the door. It doesn’t take long for him to make his way down the hall and into your bedroom, a tiny half smile worming its way into his expression despite his bone aching weariness when he spots you sound asleep in bed. He pauses to stare at you for a moment.

Hitoshi then showers as fast as humanly possible before crawling under the blankets and curling an arm around your waist, tugging you close until he can nose at the back of your neck. You sigh in your sleep and smuggle closer into his embrace.

Hitoshi trails his nose down the side of your neck and he freezes once he gets to your shoulder. You smell….good. Insanely fucking good, and he can’t quite pinpoint the specific scent but it’s soft and warm and maybe even a little musky. It sends warm blood rushing south and his cock twitches with interest.

He wracks his brain and the only thing he can associate with the scent is your cat, Kiko, when she was a kitten and you first brought her home.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Hitoshi’s in the middle of playing a game when you return home that day, calling out for him to come to the living room for a second.

“Why?” He yells back. He’s just about to finish this round.

“Just come out here you dick!”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes, but is amused nonetheless by your slightly frustrated tone. He pauses his game and makes his way to where you wait, but stops in his tracks, lips parting in shock and eyes going wide when he sees what you’re holding.

You’re cradling an itty bitty, all black, fluff ball of a kitten in your arms. You grin delightedly at his shocked expression and hold her out almost as if you’re offering her to him.

“You wanted a kitten right? An all black one, like the one you had as a kid at Aizawa’s.”

Hitoshi manages to close his mouth and nod, cautiously reaching out to take the small creature and cradle her to his chest.

He…can’t believe you remembered. You remembered how much his cat had meant to him and went out of your way to find this kitten.

“Thank you,” he says softly, petting the purring kitten’s head with one finger. You step closer and do the same, scratching under her chin until she meows.

“What should we name her?”

“Kiko,” Hitoshi responds with no hesitation, glancing at you for approval and you smile back at him.

“I love it.”

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Hitoshi blinks back to the present, the fond memory lingering at the edges of his mind. He remembers how his heart squeezed against his rib cage in the best kind of way that day and how he knew then he wanted to marry you.

“Baby,” Hitoshi whispers lowly as he kisses your cheek. You stir enough to lazily flip over and hum in question. “I love you, so much.”

“Mm, love you too Hitoshi,” you mumble, sleepy rasp coloring your voice.

Hitoshi bends down to kiss you sweetly, encouraging you to throw a leg over his hips and straddle his waist. He settles you on top of him and wiggles a hand between you to shove his briefs down, cock stiff since he first smelled you, and slides your panties to the side.

Your limbs are still laced and heavy with sleep when Hitoshi helps you sink down on his cock. You melt into his chest, face buried in his throat and arms locked around his neck.

He bends his knees and grips your ass to help you sensually ride him, rocking up into you at a leisurely pace until the warmth finally bubbles over the edge and you cum with a shiver and he follows right behind you.

When he asks you about it the next day, it all clicks into place when you give him the watered down version of how the “perfume” works.

He hums noncommittally before asking you to wear it again.

[letternotekisses]

overwatch men react to you doing the ‘fake bj prank’ 🫦

Reinhardt pulls an almost adorably curious face when you suddenly drop to your knees in front of him, his mouth open in a small ‘o’ that soon turns into an excited grin once he catches sight of you tying up your hair. His hand instinctively comes to his belt - his cock growing stiff and heavy within moments, although his joy deflates almost instantaneously when you stand back up after ‘finding’ your ‘lost’ hairpin. He covers himself with a nearby sofa cushion and waves you off when you giggle and ask why he’s blushing.

Cassidy immediately gets comfortable, he knows the drill. Stubs out his cigar as quick as a flash and all but slams his Peacekeeper on the table beside him. It’s only when he realises you’re actually reaching for something you’d ‘dropped’ on the floor and not ripping his belt off wildly with your teeth does he stand there like an absolute melon. Don’t even ask him about it because he’ll simply lower his hat in shame and mourn over the loss of his cigar. That was Cuban. But you both know he’d forgo many more just for the chance of your perfect lips around his thick cock.

Genji is actually surprisingly hard to prank. If you try to ‘drop’ something or go to pick something up directly in front of him he’s much too quick to do it for you. Always the gentleman, but it grew almost annoying being unknowingly outsmarted by him every time. You had to get real creative with it - kneeling low and close to fiddle with the loops of his trousers gets him spluttering and looking around wildly for someone in the halls, before you pat his thigh and rise with a smile, claiming the new belt you’d got him looks so nice on. He’s adorably confused for a minute, before he mentally vowed to get you back. Although, you fear he may not get the point of the prank because you definitely had the best orgasm of your life after he was done with you. Sigh it’s the little things.

Hanzo raises a brow to you when you slide smoothly to your knees, your hands bundling your hair up until it’s tied back neatly. His back is stiffening the moment any part of you grazes his thigh and he instinctively reaches out to smooth the stray hair that escaped your grasp, the other hand settling upon the button of his waistcoat until…you’re giggling? And he sits back with a small embarrassed huff at his eagerness, a blush settling high on his sharp cheekbones. You pepper kisses all over his face to make it up to him and his fickle pride, which only makes him flush darker. He won’t stay mad for long, but similar to his brother - he’ll plan on getting even. Usually in the form of overstimulating you until you’re teary-eyed and whining or not letting you cum at all :-)

Junkrat is tittering with excitement the moment you walk into the room, let alone your little prank. As soon as you even try to get near him he’s jumping your bones and growling some nasty shit in your ear - you should have known that his insatiable nature would interfere with this. Oh well, might as well indulge him, hm? You don’t even get your dues either - as he’s too busy shimmying your trousers down your hips so he can get his daily taste of that pretty little cunt you were hiding away from him for so long.

Reaper is…not really the type of man you’d like to prank, but who says you’re any type of normal. It’s why he likes you. He won’t even let you finish your little prank because he knew what you were playing at from the start. He thumbs your head with his clawed gauntlet, a growling laugh low in his chest as his heavy cock rests on your face, pulsing hotly against your skin. Hey - you got yourself into this, but service him well enough and he’ll let you cum this time. Maybe? Who knows. He did like your attempt though! You should try and prank him more often if this is the outcome.

Lucio almost has a heart attack when you get to your knees - he had a concert due in ten minutes! But his cock betrays his best interest when it twitches to life and with ashamed (but not rly) delight he goes to fiddle with his trousers only to find…you were licking your thumb and wiping a smudge off of him. The poor guy actually almost beats himself up about assuming what you’re down there for until you explain to him with little giggles between kisses. You have a little something planned after his concert to cheer him up anyways.

Baptiste is like the largest gentleman at heart, so when you even dare squat down to even try and prank him he’s manhandling you so he can eat your pussy first. It gets weirdly competitive when you try to insist on it (so you can perform your epic awesome prank) so now you’re just 69ing. Wrong method right execution? You can’t really find yourself too bothered with Baptiste’s talented tongue deep in your cunt and his cock buried down your throat. Later, maybe. A man who insists his woman cums comes first is a man. Period.

Lifeweaver is too sweet about it to the point it might rot your fucking teeth out. It almost pains you to prank him because you just wanna suck the soul out of him through his dick. He doesn’t even blink when you’re ducking between his legs, or dropping things on purpose because he’ll just fucking help you pick them up. It’s almost infuriating so you instead take your frustrations out on actually blowing him instead. Niran palms your cheek with hands softer than aloe, his cock bulging your cheek as you swallow him deeper. Curse him and his magical body. You just wanna lick him all over.

Sigma is an intelligent man. You know it, he knows it, the ants on the ceiling probably fucking know it. That being said - he was convinced he’d memorised all of your mannerisms completely. So when he pushed back from his desk to greet you and you immediately dropped to your knees, bundling your hair up, he was happy to make quick work of his slacks. He is both humbled and down-crested to find it was a prank. He bundles you into his lap, murmuring nothings to you in Dutch. It’s enough to convince you to make it up to him - to warm his long cock with your perfect cunt while he works. Perfect. Try not to squirm…too much.

Roadhog yeah that ain’t gonna work on him. Not only does he have a sixth sense for when you (or Rat) are up to mischief, he also knows that you know he much prefers your sweet little pussy to your mouth. He thinks it’s worthy of a little punishment. Nothing too big, just something to keep you walking funny for a few days. (Good luck.)

Ramattra is very much accustomed to your human oddities by now, he’s grown tolerant of you (dare I say fond) enough to be unbothered by whatever you do. Treat him like a giant climbing frame for all he cares, you couldn’t make a dent. He knows exactly what you’re up to, and only when you’re whining for a scrap of his attention does he give it to you. Poor, sweet little human, begging for him? He’ll give you exactly what you crave, but you must remember that you asked for this when the silicone of his cock is buried impossibly deep in your tiny cunt, his cold, metal fingers splayed across the small of your back as he tuts down at you. Squirm all you want, Ramattra insists on taking his time with you.

Mauga won’t let you get off that easy either. He watches you go down with a grin that could rival the sharks back at Samoa. Watching you come back up has that smile dropping and an almost evilly mischievous glint appear in his eyes that has your panties just a tiny bit wet. In retrospect it was a good idea to prank him. In truth, when he has his fat, veiny cock buried down your throat and his meaty fingers deep inside of your cunt? It was a great idea. 10/10. In fact you should do it again.

Doomfist knows something is up the moment you tie your hair up because usually he just holds it back for you while he fucks your fac—oh. He quirks a brow at your giggles, but it’s not long until you’re quickly silenced. He soon has you riding his thigh with an intense desperation in your eyes as he thumbs your lip, cooing mockingly at the wet spot on his expensive suit trousers from where he’d kept you there so long. You cum when he thinks you’ve made it up to him, which might be a while, considering how much Akande seemed to be enjoying it, his chest reverberating with every pleased rumble. You’d think twice again next time about pranking the leader of Talon. (Probably…not.)

Also, PSA, if you don’t like my work, block me! Please don’t be negative and leave hate where it’s not needed.

[morhido]

Sighs. Okay yeah i have thoughts about cgi toothless.

First of all, why does he look so... slimy? He feels too smooth. Like they just stretched some scaly skin over a skeleton and let it walk around. Immediately offputting.

His body language is. Fine? Am i being nitpicky or does it seem just the tiniest bit less expressive? I'm guessing this is either the scene right after hiccup cuts him free, in which case he should be way more intimidating, or the fish-sharing scene, in which case he should feel a little friendlier and more curious around hiccup. It's a quick shot so i won't put a ton of expectations onto it, but i think it's worth noting.

Okay this is a legitimately cool detail though. He has a secondary eyelid!! You can see it slipping away when he opens his eyes. That's a detail exclusive to the books so i like that they included something as small as that.

Sighs again. And this is the shot that prompted me to make this post.

Look at the original, and then look at the cgi version. I could write an essay about how inferior the cgi version is in comparison.

First off, they flattened his face. I swear every iteration of night furies after the first movie has just been compressing their snouts until they're sufficiently 'cute' enough for the audience to forget they're supposed to be sleek and aerodynamic.

Second, his eyes. Absolutely radioactive. I understand using a brighter colour for his eyes, especially in a relatively darker environment to make him stand out and seem more fantastical. But. They're just so bright. It's mildly unsettling how saturated they are compared to everything else.

Third, his eyes. Again.

Toothless is supposed to be terrified but still threatening in this scene, and the original shot conveys that perfectly. If it's a threat, then by all means hiccup should kill it or at least run, but instead he draws a connection between both of them being scared of the other and decides to cut him loose instead. And that's the core of their relationship. Toothless is staring him down with a slitted pupil that could just as easily be interpreted as "fuck around and find out" but hiccup just acknowledges that there's a frightened, injured animal in front of him that needs help, and he helps.

Is any of that conveyed in the cgi version? No!! It's trying so hard to be cute that it's gone full circle back to just being scary. The wide-eyed stare, the dilated pupil, he's basically just saying "🥺🥺 uwu pwease i'm so cute and innocent don't kill me aha 👉👈". Which is a lot less of a compelling reason for hiccup to free him!! Plus the fact that toothless turns up to look at him instead of lying and accepting his fate like in the original, which only makes it seem even more like he's trying to show off how apparently adorable he is.

Idk. Just the difference between the in-your-face sanitised cuteness of "teehe you wouldn't kill little old me would you? 🥺" and the expert subtlety of his "please don't hurt me" of the original doesn't give me high hopes for a toothless that stays true to his character from the first movie. Even from something as small as this. He's gonna get woobified. I can feel it.

[3motionally3xhausted]

Redesigning the Fentons!!

Hi yes this is for yet another Danny Phantom AU of mine it has nothing to do with the Apprenticeship AUs but unlike that batch I actually wanna turn this AU into a fic eventually once I get through a few other big projects I have *sobs*

Anyway individual files for each character under the cut along with my obligatory rambling about all the choices I made ;)

Jazz! Honestly, when I was a kid, I always thought she was 18 not 16 so it was kind of a shock when I started rewatching the show about a yr ago and heard that. Anyway, she's 17 in this AU but already moved out to college on a scholarship bc living in FentonWorks is kind of hell and she has that Older Sibling Guilt for leaving Danny there. For her clothes, I wanted it to be a mix of tactical and preppy.

Danny! (Fenton) The effects of FentonWorks hell is much more visible on Danny than Jazz because she got out of there as soon as she could. Because of that though, a lot of the chores in the lab got pushed onto Danny, without passing on many safety tips, like replacing the ecto-filtrator, cleaning contaminated tools, organizing ecto-weapons, etc. And because he doesn't know any better when it comes to safety, he has many symptoms of radiation poisoning: visually, this comes through in the discoloration/scarring on his skin (Jazz has some slight scarring on her face and hands as well), the cataract on his left eye, as well as burst blood vessels in that eye. For his clothes, I wanted them to look a bit ragged and worn through ripped seams, tears in the jeans, & duct tape around his shoe.

Danny! (Phantom) I don't actually have a lot to SAY about my choics, but I am really happy with it. There are still a few things. I wanted his hair as Fenton & Phantom to be different but still reminiscent of the simplistic rendering of the original show: Fenton is kind of timid so his hair falls over his face, & Phantom is more active/aggressive so his hair is pushed upward. The only other thing I want to comment on is his skin: it's kind of about how I usually stylize Phantom (and I mentioned this when I redesigned Dani a while back) but a "healthy" Phantom in my style would have more bright cyan skin and an unhealthy Phantom has a more dull/zombie green. And lastly, as a ghost, the radiation poisoning kind of cleans up into more neat scarring rather than the muddy/bleeding look as Fenton.

Maddie! Now, I'm gonna be honest, real vulnerable here,... I hate Maddie's canon haircut. It's ugly, I'm not sorry. But I can modify it, so it's fine: now it's curlier, a bit darker, and has a few grey streaks bc she's a genius and constantly pulling long working hours. And, it didn't come across as much as I wanted, but she's got some biceps, strong lady. Now, I'm not really sure why, but I wanted to shift the color of her and Jack's jumpsuit, making hers much more desaturated.

Jack! Big guy. I don't have many thoughts about him either, but I did give him glasses and some stubble for a little bit more dad energy (?) I mainly changed the color of his jumpsuit bc Orange is an extremely hard color for me to render for some reason, so now it's the classic Hazard Yellow. Finally, the most notable difference is the coat I put on him for a bit more scientist energy but my main reasoning for it is the potential visual of him being an absolute tank jumping from overhead with the ghost gauntlets and his coat flapping behind him. Also, I generally like the idea of him presenting himself as a big, dumb teddy-bear, always smiling, but completely unhinged below that facade: dropping the smile or not while towering over you in shadow. Wild imagery.

FINAL THOUGHTS: Do not count on any actual steps towards creating this fic in the near future, it's just on my mind right now, but I NEED to finish my other projects first 🙏🙏🙏 That said, I will (eventually) get around to a handful more character redesigns for this AU including: Vlad, Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Paulina, and maybe Lancer & Dash

[rieaj]

“i love you, but that dick is a plus.” ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

———

who in enha has the biggest dick? (hyung line only)

warnings: enha hyung line x reader (seperate !!), smut, unprotected sex, blowjobs, missionary, p in v, talks about dick sizes, dacryphilia, mdni !!

others: enjoy this for now, cause ive been losing motiv for a couple if days cs its been hectic asf 😭 ill post more content soon. but for now this is enough to feed y’all’s horny selves 🫶

———

lee heeseung. this man 😖. he’s big alright. 6’0ft tall he’s got big hands, feet, etc. meaning to say he’s got a big dick too. 8 inches when soft, 9 1/2 when hard. i feel like he wouldn’t be as thick as jay or jake. but this man is for sure long. i also bet he and jay would have big balls. he’d prolbably have shaved hairs that were slightly the same as sunghoon’s not too hairy or too shaved down. heeseung is the type to love blowjobs. sucking down on his long cock, just to have him push your head just to hear your whimper and gags. he’d like to fuck you in missionary just to watch his cock slowly go in and out of you whilst watching your teary eyed face.

park jay. he’s thick for sure. 7 inch when soft, 8 1/2 when hard. thick girth and a mushroom tip that would be an angry red type of color. the base would be a little tanner than his skin, and for his hair, i bet he shaves it every 2 weeks max. its neat and not so hairy. gotta be clean to satisfy his girl (>.<) jay would also be the type to be the softest and most loving in bed. he loves reassuring you and talking you through it. this man would also have the best aftercare. jay could also go rough and hard, only if he would be in a bad mood or jealous. (we’ll discuss this soon !) overall, jay just has big dick.

sim jake. thickest. 7 1/2 inches when soft, 8 when hard. jake isn’t exactly the longest. but he beats them in girth. he’s a thick boy. even just the tip inside your already stretched out so wide. his base color would be a little darker than his skin tone. he has a big tip that whenever he was hard it would be such an angry pink and constantly leak pre-cum. jake would not have any hairs at all. poor baby always feels so guilty whenever he sees you in tears as soon as an inch of his dick stretches you out. always shushing you and reassuring that the pain would be gone.

park sunghoon. i feel like he would be the biggest. a positive, 8 1/2 inch when soft. a solid 9 when hard. sunghoon would most like be the one to know his dick the best, and also use it correctly. his dick is girthy with a usual peachy color on his tip. the base color would be a the same color as his usual skin, and he would most likely have a neat shave, something like the hair still being there but at the same time it’s not too bushy. sunghoon would also have some best dick game. there is never a time you won’t be pleasured after being with him. he would also most likely HATE wearing condoms. unless that is, you want him to. anything for his girl <3 but for me i think he wouldn’t really like it cs he wants you to feel every inch and vein of him pulse inside you :0

———

yall ive been busy this is all i could come up w rn. its not my best work, but ive just been too lazy. i’ll do better soon 😞

[wifeyoozi]

Heavy Duty - wolf hybrid!csc

w.c : 1.5 k ┊ synopsis : you didn't realise your hybrid boyfriend's wolf-like characteristics included having rut cycles.┊ content warning : smut , established relationship, mentions of sex marathon, lil hardcore, cumming inside w/o protection (other contraceptives taken or not according to your pref), claiming and marking, slight cum play

a/n : mdni !! part one of my 2k followers celebration guys we are there at last 😭

Seungcheol had always been different—his wolfish nature was apparent from the start. You noticed it in the way his eyes would gleam with a sharp intensity whenever he looked at you, the primal edge to his actions, and the subtle growl of his voice when he was particularly worked up. Being a wolf hybrid, his personality was dominant, protective, and possessive. In and out of bed, he was relentless.

But no one had prepared you for this—his rut.

You had heard about ruts from stories and books, but it never occurred to you that Seungcheol would experience one. His wolf side was powerful, but he mostly controlled it. However, this time was different. His first rut since you started dating was about to hit, and you quickly realized that his already high sex drive would skyrocket into something feral, something insatiable.

It began one morning when Seungcheol woke up earlier than usual, his body pressed tightly against yours as if seeking more than warmth. You stirred when you felt his hot breath on your neck, his hand firmly gripping your waist.

"Baby, you're so warm," he whispered, his voice deeper than usual, a low growl lacing his words. "I need you."

His usual morning neediness had an edge today, and you couldn’t quite place why. His hands, rough but always tender, started exploring your body more eagerly than before, and you could sense something was different. His touch wasn’t just affectionate—it was demanding, almost desperate.

"Seungcheol," you whispered, turning slightly to face him. "You okay?"

His eyes were glowing, almost like he was battling something inside. He kissed you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth as if tasting, devouring. His large hands gripped your thighs, pulling you against his chest, and his hardened length was already pressing insistently between your legs.

"I need you… so fucking badly," he murmured against your lips, his voice raw. "I don’t know what's wrong with me. I can’t stop thinking about you."

You whimpered softly at the heat of his words, your body responding instantly. You had always loved the way Seungcheol made you feel wanted, but this was different. He seemed almost… lost in his need for you.

It didn’t take long for him to tug your clothes off, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck, sucking and biting just hard enough to leave marks. You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, and he growled in response, his lips latching onto your nipple, biting gently.

"Seungcheol, what's gotten into you?" you gasped.

His eyes met yours—darker, more dangerous. "I think it's my rut," he admitted breathlessly, his voice strained with lust. "I… fuck, baby, I don’t know if I can control it."

Your heart raced at the revelation. A rut. It made sense now. His heightened libido, his intensity—it was like he was a wild animal, unable to control his instincts.

Before you could say another word, his mouth crashed into yours again, his kiss so bruising and possessive that it took your breath away. He spread your legs with his knee, lining his cock up with your entrance, already dripping with arousal.

"I need to be inside you," he growled, his voice barely human anymore. "I need to fuck you, claim you."

Your body trembled with anticipation, and you nodded, unable to resist him. "Take me, Seungcheol," you whispered, voice trembling. "I’m yours."

That was all the permission he needed. With a low growl, he plunged into you in one swift, brutal thrust. You cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch, the fullness, but Seungcheol wasn’t slowing down. His hips snapped against yours, his thrusts hard and fast, each one making you gasp for air.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice a rasp. "So fucking tight. You always take me so well, don’t you, baby?"

You whimpered in response, the pleasure building rapidly as his cock hit deep inside you, over and over. He was relentless, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucked you like his life depended on it. You clawed at his back, trying to ground yourself, but it was no use. His pace was brutal, and you were lost in the sensation.

"That’s it, baby," Seungcheol growled, his lips brushing your ear. "Let me hear you. I want to hear you scream for me."

You moaned loudly as his words sent a jolt of heat through your body. He was going so deep, hitting places inside you that made your vision blur. You had never seen him like this before—so wild, so uncontrollable. It was intoxicating.

"Cheol, fuck… so deep," you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as he drove into you mercilessly.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. "You love it, don’t you? You love when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking wet for me."

You couldn’t deny it. The primal need in his voice, the way his body dominated yours—it drove you wild. "Yes, Seungcheol… I love it. I love the way you fuck me," you moaned, your words spurring him on.

His pace quickened, his hips slamming against yours harder, faster. You could feel the pressure building, the orgasm creeping up on you with every brutal thrust. Seungcheol’s growls filled the room, his cock stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously.

"I’m going to fill you up, baby," he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "I’m going to fuck my cum so deep inside you, make you mine."

The thought sent you over the edge. Your body tightened around him as you came with a loud cry, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Seungcheol’s grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice hoarse as he slammed into you one last time, spilling himself deep inside you with a guttural moan. His body shuddered above you as he came, filling you up with his thick, hot cum.

For a moment, the two of you lay there, panting, his body still pressed against yours, his cock still buried deep inside you. But even as you tried to catch your breath, Seungcheol wasn’t done. His cock was still hard, still throbbing inside you.

"I’m not finished," he growled, his voice still thick with lust. "My rut… it’s not over yet."

Your eyes widened in surprise. You had expected him to be spent, but it seemed his rut was far from done. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, already eager for more.

"Seungcheol…" you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he began to move again, slow but steady, his cock dragging along your sensitive walls.

"Three days," he murmured against your lips, his hands caressing your thighs. "It’s going to last for three days, baby. Can you handle that?"

The thought of being fucked like this for three days sent a shiver down your spine. But the way Seungcheol looked at you, his eyes filled with need and hunger—it made you want to give him everything.

"I can handle it," you whispered breathlessly, your body already heating up again.

Seungcheol grinned, his wolfish teeth showing as he leaned down to kiss you again, his hips picking up speed. "Good," he growled. "Because I’m not stopping until my rut is over."

And he didn’t stop.

For the next three days, Seungcheol fucked you like an animal in heat. Day and night, he took you in every position imaginable, his stamina seemingly endless. You barely had time to recover from one orgasm before he was thrusting into you again, his cock always hard, always ready. His words were filthy, his dirty talk sending you spiralling every time.

"Look at you," he growled one night, his hips snapping against yours as he fucked you from behind, his hands gripping your ass tightly. "You’re so fucking perfect. Taking me so well, like you were made for me."

You whimpered, your body trembling with pleasure as he pounded into you, his cock hitting deep. "I am, Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m made for you."

He groaned at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "That’s right," he growled. "You’re mine. All mine."

By the end of his rut, you were exhausted, your body sore but thoroughly satisfied. Seungcheol lay beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist, his body finally calm.

"You did so good," he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate now that the storm had passed. "I love you."

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I love you too, Seungcheol."

As intense as it had been, there was something about the way he held you afterward, the way he looked at you with such adoration, that made it all worth it. Even in the chaos of his rut, Seungcheol had been yours—and you had been his.