#pre-locs

[xtrablak674]

Pre-Loc'd Hair Self Portraits from Twenty Years Ago

[firstdove15]

The little things in life: It rained most of the day and got heavier at night. We stopped by the gas station and I ran through the rain to get cups of cappuccinos and pay for gas. I felt alive being under the rain for that brief sprint. @@

[1ncandescentrage]

I look forward for when my ear infection is gone. And to continue developing a body and hair ritual out of love.

[kiidd-j]

Messy hair, don’t care? Hehe.🪼

[mattslolita]

can u make a cute blurb of bambi wanting cuddles/attention from dealer chris and he’s busy but he finally gives innnnn☺️

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

a pout is on your lips as you watch chris with his back turned to you, busy packing up pre-rolls for some future deals. you knew he had to get them done especially because he was taking you with him tomorrow for some deals, so he needed them to be ready.

however, he'd spent most of the day doing it, and you were getting sad without his attention — you also figured he could use a break, as you could see his fingers begin to grow a darker shade of red due to the continuous rolling.

you gave a soft sigh, momentarily pulling chris's attention as he glanced behind himself at you — you gave him a fake smile, and he creases his eyebrows before going back to what he was doing. a frown tugs at your lips at this, and you decide to crawl closer to him on the couch. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"sweetheart," he mumbles, slightly leaning into your touch, before gently shrugging you off, "gotta finish this."

you let out a soft whine, pulling back from him momentarily, "i miss you, baby."

"i've been here the whole time, bambi," chris says with raised eyebrows, causing you to narrow your eyes as your lip pokes out, "m'almost done."

you pout once again, as chris goes back to his previous tasks — you crossed you arms over your chest as your eyes bore into the back of his head. you have the urge to go and play with the curly wisps of his brown locs that rest at the nape of his neck, so you do — you scoot back over to him, resting your legs under yourself as you softly reach for the back of his head and thread your fingers through his hair.

a soft groan escapes his lips at this, as he leans into your touch again — a small giggle is pulled from your lips at the action, as you press another kiss to his cheek.

with a sigh, he stops his task and turns to look at you — you gave him a daring look in return with wriggled eyebrows, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes. "alright kid, c'mere."

giggling victoriously, you place yourself in his awaiting arms, situating yourself in his lap — he holds you close to him, hands running along your waist comfortingly. you continue threading your fingers through his hair, as he places a plethora of kisses to your cheek.

"y'happy, now?" he asks you, rubbing small circles on your back and you nod at him giddily.

"mhm!" you hum, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he continues massaging your back.

[woodle-isbae]

Can you please write (sub)photographer Armin x reader

*click*

The flash of the camera washed over his flushed face , blue eyes squinting from the sudden light.

"Can you please- slow down.."

You shrugged your shoulders , hips grinding against his , a devilish smile on your face as you scanned through his camera

"Can I atleast be inside?"

His pleads going through your ears while you continued your paced humps on his clothed dick. Taking photos of him with his own Polaroid

"Just a couple more photos ,yeah?"

He let out a whimper , hips bucking underneath yours as he couldn't take any more teasing , you could tell he needed more from the wet feeling from your slick and his pre going through the fabric of your clothes .

"Okay fine."

You lifted your hips off him , allowing the both of you to remove your undergarments , slowly lowering yourself onto his twitching cock with a soft moan leaving both your lips

His hands nestled on your hips while he rutted into you , your own sitting on each side of his head , your moans in sync.

"Pleasepleaseplease-fuck I need you so bad"

He rambled on and on , head sinking into the pillow beneath him as his thrusts sped up.

"Can I please cum- please-?"

"No , not yet."

You grabbed his face , your hips grinding on him while he stopped thrusting , trying to hold back from filling you up. His whines slipping past his pink puffy lips .

"Please- let me cum please"

"No...now fuck me."

You gripped his face , kissing him while you bounced on his Cock, swallowing down his moans. His hips stuttering under yours , arms around your waist in an attempt to slow you down.

"I can't- fuck please let me cum.."

You could feel yourself nearing your own edge , the way his tip brushed against that spongey spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Shit-fine , you can cum"

He let out a staggered breath , turning you over onto your back , fucking into you with urgency. His sudden need for you was enough to have you shove your lips into his , muffling the moans that flew out of your mouth as you came on his Cock. Your fingers between the blond locs of his hair , other hand searching for something on the dressing table.

"Fuck- smile for me baby."

He had already beat you to it , grabbing the camera and snapping a couple of flash photos of your fucked out face , hands comming up to cover your eyes from the light

"O-oh! Shiit-"

His words cut off with a sob like moan , picking you up and dropping the camera next to him ,fucking you on his lap with a great speed only stopping completely to fill you up with his cum.

He leaned back , letting you straddle him for a few minutes before lifting your hips up , his softened dick plopping out along with your mixed juices , you sat back down on his lap top catch your breath

"Not bad for a beginner photographer.."

"I know right , look at this one here.."

You showed him a personal favorite of yours , one where your face is contorted in pleasure and his lips are hovering right above your own.

"Fucking perfect."

You could feel him hardening all over again against your ass , giggling at his sparked arousal.

"You dirty dog."

[nibeul]

my little sun

[id: it’s a drawing of Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker pre Geonosis. Obi Wan—who is depicted as an Asian man with pale skin and black hair that is styled in his signature mullet—is the main focus of the drawing as Anakin’s—who is depicted as Black with brown skin and shoulder length locs—back is facing the viewer and his form is blurred. Though Obi Wan is the focus, he is gazing fondly at Anakin; he looks at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky. /end id]

[meazalykov]

thirst

catarina macario x chelsea!reader

summary: too focused on the game, you forgot to focus on yourself

warnings: angst, fainting, reader passing out, period/menstrual

you woke up to an ache low in your abdomen that made you want to stay in bed for at least another hour. the pain was sharp, almost like your body was protesting the fact that it was morning. 

as you curled into yourself, the realization hit—your period had arrived. the timing couldn't have been worse. today was matchday, and not just any matchday. you were playing manchester city, one of the most crucial games of the season. 

this wasn’t a day for excuses or slowing down. you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to sit up despite the persistent ache.

the sunlight streamed through your bedroom window, and your phone buzzed on the nightstand. grabbing it, you saw a message from catarina:  

good morning, amor 

see you out there today. crush it like you always do. i love you <3

you smiled softly, her message giving you a small boost of motivation despite how miserable you felt. cat always knew how to make things feel better, even with a simple text. still, the cramps were unrelenting, and you knew they weren’t going anywhere. 

you rubbed your stomach absentmindedly, silently cursing your body for betraying you on such an important day.

there was no time to dwell on it. as you glanced at the clock, panic set in—you were running late. the usual routine of stretching, eating breakfast, and hydrating with a pitcher of water was completely out the window. 

you threw on your chelsea training hoodie, grabbed your bag full of necessities, and rushed out the door without a second thought. breakfast and water would have to wait. the match was all that mattered right now.

by the time you arrived at stamford, the atmosphere was attractive. fans were already filtering into the stands, their excitement palpable. matchdays like these were why you loved football. the energy, the stakes, the chance to prove yourself—it was what you lived for.

 the discomfort in your stomach was shoved to the back of your mind as you focused on the task at hand. this game was about keeping chelsea at the top of the league table. nothing else mattered. not even your discomfort.

in the locker room, the pre-game excitement was contagious. your teammates were focused but relaxed, their confidence filling the space. you could feel your own adrenaline building, pushing past the lingering ache in your body. as a midfielder, you thrived on being the engine of the team, the player who could shift the momentum with a single play. against a team like manchester city, your tactical mind and speed were going to be crucial.

before you stood up to get into the tunnel, you felt a hand on your shoulder. you turned around to see catarina, who you gave a light smile to before giving her a light peck on the lips. 

“have fun out there, ok?” the american says. 

“sure will.” you gave a fake smile, still ignoring the cramps that were now traveling up your back. 

the whistle blew to start the first half, and the game was as intense as you’d expected. city pressed high, their forwards like miedema and roord were relentless in their pursuit of the ball. you tracked back tirelessly, intercepting passes and closing down angles with precision. 

your vision on the field was sharp, your decision-making quick. when you threaded a perfect through ball to ramirez, the roar of the crowd was deafening as she slotted it past the keeper.

one-nil to chelsea.

the pressure didn’t let up. miedema, city’s forward, was a constant threat. her pace and precision forced your defense to stay on high alert. you found yourself marking her more than once, your legs burning as you kept pace with her runs. 

the cramps in your abdomen were a dull throb now, but you ignored them. you couldn’t afford to slow down, not in a game like this.

by halftime, you were drenched in sweat, your legs heavy but your heart still pounding with adrenaline. in the locker room, you downed a small cup of water, but it barely made a dent in the dryness of your throat. 

you didn’t think about eating the small tray of fruit that laid on the table in the dressing room, despite the gnawing emptiness in your stomach. the game was all-consuming, and you were determined to see it through.

the second half was even more intense. manchester city came back with a vengeance, determined to equalize. you threw yourself into every play, your body running on pure determination. 

around the 70th minute, though, things started to feel... off.

at first, you thought it was just nerves. your stomach growled loudly, but you brushed it off as pre-match jitters lingering in your system. then, your vision started to blur slightly around the edges. your legs felt heavier than usual, each step taking more effort than it should have. 

you blinked, trying to shake off the dizziness.

miedema came charging down the right flank, the ball at her feet. instinct took over as you stepped in, timing your tackle perfectly to steal the ball. you turned, looking for an outlet, and spotted ramirez making a run down the center. with a quick pass, you sent the ball her way. but as soon as the ball left your foot, your legs gave out.

you didn’t feel yourself hit the ground. 

when you opened your eyes, the world was a blur of bright lights and muffled sounds. your head was pounding, and your entire body felt drained. the first thing you recognized was nusken’s face hovering above you, her expression a mix of worry and relief.

“y/n, can you hear me?” her voice was soft, almost hesitant. 

“you’re okay. just stay still.”

you blinked slowly, your mind struggling to piece together what had happened. the medic was leaning over you, checking your pulse and murmuring instructions to someone nearby.

“what happened?” you managed to croak, your throat dry and scratchy.

“you’ve fainted,” nusken said, squeezing your hand gently. 

“just relax. we’ve got you.”

fainted. the word echoed in your mind as the memories came rushing back. the match, miedema, the ball leaving your foot, and then... nothing. embarrassment and guilt washed over you as you realized what must’ve happened in front of the entire stadium.

“where’s cat?” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“she’s on the bench,” the german replied. 

“she saw everything. she’s worried sick.”

on the bench, catarina had been frozen with fear the moment she saw you collapse. her first instinct was to run to you, but protocol kept her rooted in place. her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her heart racing as the medics worked on you. 

seeing you, her strong and determined y/n, lying motionless on the pitch was a nightmare she couldn’t shake.

when the medic confirmed you were conscious, catarina felt a small wave of relief, but it wasn’t enough. she needed to see you, to know you were truly okay.

the final whistle blew, and chelsea secured a 3-1 victory, but catarina barely registered the result. all she could think about was you.

when catarina finally saw you in the medic area, the sight of you propped up on a cot with dark circles under your eyes made her heart ache. she sat down beside you silently, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of how you were feeling.

“how did the game go?” you asked, your voice weak but carrying a hint of your usual humor.

“we won. 3-1,” she said softly, her tone hesitant. 

“but let’s not pretend that’s the most important thing right now.”

you sighed, the guilt evident in your expression. “it’s my period,” you admitted quietly. 

“i wasn’t thinking. i forgot to eat or drink anything this morning.”

catarina’s brows furrowed in concern, her worry quickly mingling with frustration. 

“amor, you know you can’t do that. you can’t just forget to take care of yourself.”

you avoided her gaze, feeling like a scolded child. “i didn’t have time,” you muttered. 

“i was running late.”

she let out a deep sigh, running a hand through her hair. “you scared me, y/n. when i saw you go down like that... i thought...” her voice broke slightly, and she looked away, trying to compose herself.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your own voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

her gaze softened, and she leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “your apology is forgiven once you start catching up on your hydration. deal?”

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. 

catarina reached down and grabbed a plate wrapped in foil along with a water bottle. “i grabbed this for you from the lounge. i figured you’d need it.”

you unwrapped the foil to find your favorite meal—chicken and rice with a small bowl of strawberries on the side. your stomach growled loudly, and catarina couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“eat, amor,” she urged, handing you a fork. “and drink. all of it.”

as you ate, you felt a wave of gratitude for her. she didn’t have to do any of this, but she always did. she always cared, even when you didn’t.

“i’m really sorry,” you said again between bites. 

“i’ll be better about this. i promise.”

“you’d better,” she replied, her tone teasing but still laced with concern. 

“because if you scare me like that again, caoch and i will tie a water bottle to your wrist and a snack bag to your other hand.”

you laughed, the sound weak but genuine. “you’d really do that, wouldn’t you?”

“absolutely,” she said, leaning in to kiss your temple. “now finish eating. you need your strength.”

masterlist

[forlorn-crows]

𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍

pairing(s): swiss/dewdrop words: 785 rating: explicit

notes: listen i dont know what possessed me but i needed to write someone shoving their hand down the other's pants and jerking them off and then this happened. warning for degradation. proceed with (horny) caution.

edit: now on AO3 + with scrumptious art by @noahl-art here :3

"F-fuck, Dew, touch me," Swiss growls against his lips. Their bodies writhe in the tight (lack of) space of the bus bunk, greedy and desperate for each other.

"Yeah?" The fire ghoul goads. "Just a fuckin' needy little bitch that needs to cum, aren't you?"

"Uh huh," Swiss whines, shoving Dew's hand down his pants. "Jerk me off, mark me, don' care." The first touch of his hot hand against his shaft is like the Dark One's grace, mercifully pleasurable and sinfully firm.

Dew growls and nips at his jaw. "Need to feel how hot I make you," he breathes. "Get you all stiff and sticky in my hand." He's just as hard, throbbing against the meat of Swiss' thigh. Swiss throbs under his fingers and they swallow each others' groan.

"Wan' it," Swiss grunts. He bucks up, seeking friction. "Fuck, spitfire, make me cum."

A little laugh turns up the corners of Dew's mouth as he moves to free his cock, slapping the wet head onto Swiss' flannels. "You'll cum when I tell you to," he says. Another nip, this time to Swiss' earlobe. Hard enough to cause him to gasp. Dew gives a rough squeeze to his balls and ruts against his leg with a groan, uncaring at how loud and obvious it is. "And you're gonna beg me for it. Like the whore you are."

Swiss lets out a wet hah and bares his neck to Dew, arching into his hand. "Yeah, yeah," he grits through his teeth. "Fuckin' use me. Do whatever you wan'."

Dew gives him a harsh tug, twisting on the upstroke. "'S funny," he says huskily. "You, parading around for all those people." He sucks hard beneath the hinge of his jaw, hard enough to bruise. Swiss can't help but groan, gripping tighter at the back of Dew's shirt and flexing his thigh to feel the hard line of him. "Fuckin' hells," Dew groans, "if they could see you like this. Bad boy Swiss taken down by the little guy's hand around his cock."

Dew digs his teeth in again, and Swiss has to turn and stuff his moan into the pillowcase.

The fire ghoul starts humping him in earnest. Hand not matching his own tempo, and just unpredictable enough to scramble his brain. Swiss can feel Dew's pre soak through to his skin after only a few thrusts.

"Dew," he chokes. He's so hard; Dew makes him crazy like this.

Dew pants against the hollow of his throat, warm and humid. His tongue darts out to lick a hot stripe up to his jaw, ending at the blooming bruise and pressing into it. Swiss' cock spurts pre onto Dew's fingers, already too close.

"Such a slut. Barely touched you and you're dripping all over me, huh?" Nevermind that Dew is leaking consistently against his thigh, because he's right—Swiss is wet for this. Wet for being degraded, pushed around. Bullied until he can't help but cover himself in his own spend.

"Hnnf-uuh," he groans into the pillow, still held between his teeth. He nods quickly, eyes rolling into the back of his head when Dew polishes the head with his pre.

"Shit," Dew rasps. His hips kick up in speed. A freight train barreling both of them towards broken tracks. He digs his knees into the thin bunk mattress for leverage and sneaks his free hand up to grab at the ends of Swiss' locs, pulling just as hard as he tugs on his cock, and Swiss thinks his brain tumbles from his lips when he whines through the break in his voice.

He shivers all over, right down to his toes. "D-Dew—"

"That's fuckin' it, such a pretty boy when you wanna cum," Dew growls. A beat, silent except for the wet sound of his hand jerking Swiss' cock. Then: "You gonna?"

Swiss doesn't answer. Can't, not when his mouth can't close far enough to make words. His tongue licks uselessly at the back of his teeth, fumbling to make his sounds turn into something coherent. But he can't. His eyes are screwed shut. His balls are drawing up against his body already, and he can't.

Dew snorts, pulling on his hair again. "Stupid—fuck; stupid fucking cock-drunk whore." He means it as a sneer, but it comes out warbling and needy.

He grips the tip again, and Swiss all but howls. "Your whore," he wheezes, all his muscles tightening to snap. "P-please."

Dew groans into his shoulder, fist speeding over his dick. "Again," he spits. "Say it again."

Swiss whimpers. "Please; Lucifer, please let me cum."

Dew half-laughs, half-groans, tightening his hand and forcefully jerking down to the base each time, just how he knows Swiss wants.

"Fuckin' do it then."c

[asexualsinner]

Ghoul Hair Headcanons

This wouldn't leave my brain until I put it out into the world

Dewdrop/Sodo

Pin straight corn blonde that goes to his mid back

Very thin

Dry and damaged from his fire transition (Cumulus bullies him into letting her put oils and serums in it to help. He won't admit that he likes it)

Will wash his hair everyday/every time he takes a shower. This is sometimes multiple times a day. (Cumulus and Rain cry in despair)

Cowlick at the front part. Annoys the shit out of him when it dries funny

Let's his hair air dry after a shower

His hair used to be normally oily pre fire transition from the ministry's lake but noticed that if he swims for long periods of time his hair will be greasy and gross

Leaves hair EVERYWHERE. In the shower, on the furniture, clothes, you.

Uses everyone else's shampoo and conditioner bc he's too lazy to get his own

Will wear it up in a spider clip when practicing

Doesn't like people touching it, will let the other ghouls braid/style it on occasions or if they give him their best puppy dog eyes long enough

Somehow manages to not have bed head. Wakes up and his hair is fine. The pack considers this the 8th wonder of the world

Gets annoyed when his hair gets caught in his mask/balaclava bc he was too lazy to either tie it up himself or let one of the others do it for him preshow

Rain

Wavy hair that curls up just under his ears, blackish almost dark blue in certain light

Hair defies logic, will curl/wave in patterns that don't make sense

Uses 837+ products in it to make it glossy and soft after swimming (screams internally after Dew leaves barely a squirt of shampoo left in the shower and doesn't replace it)

Sleeps with a silk pillowcase

Will pin his hair back with pearl barrettes that papa gifted him

BEDHEAD. The WORST BEDHEAD out of all the ghouls. Wakes up looking like he lost a fight with a moose

Will let anyone run their fingers through it/brush it/style it. He will make you wash your hands beforehand though

Dries it using a cotton T-shirt. Usually the one he was wearing pre-shower

Washes his hair every 3-5 days

Mountain

Brown 3b curly mullet/Mohawk

Shaves the sides bc he finds the hair tickling his ears and horns annoying

Usually has leaves or flowers caught in his hair

Bangs cover his eyes

Cowlick at the crown of his head

Oil? Seums? Who is she, bc Mountain has never heard of her

His horns make headbands impossible so he will use bobby pins to keep his bangs out of the way while in the greenhouse or practicing

Bobby pins are everywhere. In the greenhouse, the practice room, living room, kitchen, EVERYWHERE

Consequently knows how to lockpick doors with said Bobby pins. No he will not tell you how he knows how to do this

Wraps his hair in silk handkerchiefs to sleep

Will wash his hair once a week if he remembers

Shakes his hair out like a dog to dry unless one of the others corner him with the Dyson hair dryer. (He won't admit that he hates the sound it makes)

Will throw in leave in conditioner overnight

Let's Phantom and Aurora put in cute clips that he forgets about

Once showed up to practice with a head full of colorful butterfly clips bc he forgot about them. Copia didn't say anything, wanted to see how long it would take Mount to notice while head banging. He didn't notice the entire practice until one flew off and hit his drum set

Swiss

Dark brownish black locs, sometimes will braid in colors if he's feeling like it. Mostly dark colors like burgundy or purple. Has been convinced to do gold before tours by the others

JEWELRY!!! LOTS of metal rings, cuffs and jewels. Loves being the shiniest thing in the room

Has as many if not more hair care products than Rain. Takes care to make sure his hair doesn't get damaged and is healthy

Sleeps with a silk bonnet to protect his hair

Has done fun style like space buns with his locs but will usually leave it down or in a top knot

Will wash it every 7-10 days or so unless it gets super dirty

Will take care of the rest of the packs hair, is the pack mom about it

Dew/Sodo frustrates the HELL out of him. What do you mean you don't use conditioner??

Will chew on the cuffs like a fidget toy

Takes great pride in his hair, will spend forever in the bathroom if you let him

If his hair isn't cooperating with him, that's it for the day you will not see him

Has injured himself/others while practicing from all the metal in his hair while headbanging/throwing himself around (was forced to wear a cone of shame during the rest of that practice)

Phantom/Aeon

Very wavy almost curly black hair with white streak on the left side

Hair thins out and curls around his shoulders with whispy bangs

Wolf cut girlie ✨

Soft and fluffy, loves to have his scalp scratched and hair played with. Will absolutely fall asleep while it's being done

Has tinted his hair with purple bc he likes the aesthetic

The others have found him in the bathroom at 3am with scissors bc he saw a trend on TikTok and wanted to try it (he was banned from scissors for 3 months)

Swiss cried when he saw it in the morning (what did you do??)

Forgets to wash his hair but is still better than Mountain about it

Washes every 5-7 days

Originally would use a towel to dry until he found the Dyson and now is a menace

Will chew on his hair until it's brought to his attention

Headbands, headbands, HEADBANDS! LOVES THEM.

Has demon horns ones, cat ear ones, regular ones, even those zig zag ones that hurt he doesn't care he loves them

Will use whatever's in the bathroom but prefers softer smelling products

Hates hairspray with a passion

Doesn't sleep with any special pillow cases, etc

Double cowlick where his bags sit and at the crown

Gets really REALLY bad knots at the base of his skull. Will cry when Swiss or Cumulus has to brush them out

Aether

Strawberry blonde short hair and shaved on the sides

Slicked back fade, likes the greaser look from the 50s

Do not touch this man's hair

Not only is it slicked back with 50lbs of product he will also bite you

Has sideburns

Somehow still uses 3-in-1 despite being picky about how his hair looks

Will sing into the hair dryer while using it

Hair is dry, not damaged but definitely not hydrated/healthy enough

Doesn't wear any accessories except for a beanie in the winter

Looks like a peacock in the morning, hair is just everywhere. Sticks up in every direction when he wakes up

Washes it everyday due to the product he puts in it

Fell asleep on the tour bus once and there was a grease spot left from his hair gel

Uses hair pomade that smells like vanilla and sandalwood

Goes through a jar of pomade every two days. The ministry's budget is crying, shaking in their boots bc of this ghouls usage of hair gel

Is a walking fire hazard from the gel

Cumulus

4b curl pattern, rocks the afro with bangs

Natural color is a dark reddish brown but dyes it fun colors like sky blue

Loves to tie it up with a cute designed handkerchief or bun, etc

Will accessorize with butterfly clips or spiral hair wyrms/Jewels

Washes it once a week but uses hair oils/serums daily

Bullies Dew/Sodo into letting her care for his hair

Is the go to for hair advice after Swiss

Uses a silk bonnet and silk pillowcase to sleep

Will use a cotton T-shirt to dry it/scrunch it and then finishes with the dyson

Second biggest hair shedder after Dew/Sodo

Will style it like Rosie the Riveter for practice

Doesn't like it when people touch her hair unless they ask first

Even then the answer may be no

Likes floral scented shampoo/conditioner

Aurora

Straight flat hair with choppy bags

THICCCC hair, goes to the bottom of her shoulder blades

Platinum blonde but dyed underneath

Enjoys the shocked gasps she gets when she pulls her hair up to show the rainbow underneath

Doesn't hold a curl for the life of her, she's tried

Usually keeps her hair down, will do a low ponytail for practice

Twin braids on sides framing her face

Likes playing with the others hair since hers doesn't hold different styles well

No cowlicks but her hair knots horrendously. After show care includes at least two other ghouls trying to help her unknot her hair from her balaclava

Washes it once a week,prefers cinnamon scented soaps

Super greasy if she uses too much product

Is in love with the Dyson hair dryer, fights with Aether on who gets to use it as a mic

Cirrus

Thin, straight dark black hair to her mid back

Twinning with Dew/Sodo except she takes care of her hair ✨

Shorted whispy hair framing her face

Her hair looks blue in certain light, almost like an oil slick

Split ends? Couldn't be her

Favorite shampoo scent is mint

Will spend hours combing her hair

Prefers combs over brushes

Doesn't get bad bed head but her hair is super static-y.

Will wear twin braids when practicing or pin the braids to her head with clips

Hair always looks super elegant

Like Aurora her hair can't hold a curl

Doesn't use anything special to sleep with

Will wash every 3-5 days

Uses serums as needed but her hair is super hydrated

Very soft

Prefers not to be touched but will allow certain ghouls to braid it if asked

Is the one who bought the Dyson hair dryer, is super amused by everyone's feral reactions to it.

[a-url-that-exists]

okay I'm hopping on the Salem drawing bandwagon yippeeeee Salem. he's a big inspiration to me and makes me feel seen as a fat boy pre transition, and makes me want to get better at drawing fat furries and embracing that part of myself. this is @wolfertinger666 's fursona, Salem belongs to him/is him. uhhhh i did the version with big locs because i thought they were really cool. anyways

[ghosts-cant-sleep]

unrequited love with male reader having feelings for Leon but Leon has feelings for Ada

i've hoarded your name in my mouth for months

leon kennedy [re4] x male! reader warnings: yearnmaxxing, mc is awkwardly put into a pre-existing scene but its okay but the intention is for you to feel uncomfortable, i listened to a lot of kimya dawson while writing this. so. notes: anon you single handedly found every single trigger word in my brain, i owe you all my worldly belongings

fem dni

"Who was she?" His voice scratched against his throat, creating an awkward, unpleasant sound, mouth dry and weak with lack of use. At this point, [Name] was just begging to have his feelings hurt.

But he couldn't keep his focus in check. Like a thirsty hound in sweltering heat, eyeing its bowl of water, Leon sat right across from him. Their desks shoved together, wires of their respective computers entangling themselves, stuffed in the space between them.

Leon's eyes are reluctant to meet [Name]'s, his chin rising before his gaze catches up. The warmth from the desklamp and the blinding blue light from his computer meet on the planes of Leon's face like a painting. They catch in his hair, casting it in it's hues as tousled locs fall over his brow, highlight the contours of his cheeks, deepen the creases beneath his eyes while his brows pinch together. He considers the question for a moment, pen stilling mid letter. "She...?"

[Name]'s pen anxiously rolls between his fingers, palms growing clammy, making his skin feel sticky. He wanted to take the question back as soon as his eyes met Leon's. He didn't mean it, he didnt really want to know, but the question had plaqued mind for weeks now. He didn't care how badly the answer would hurt him. He just needed an answer.

"Uhm, like that woman, I mean. The, uh, the one from Spain." Dread swells in his throat. He tries to clear it with a dry cough. His hands slip beneath the table in a way he hopes is casual, palms drying themselves against his jeans.

He pretends not to remember her name, like it'd make the truth easier to bear, like the sound of her name falling of Leon's tongue hadn't been rotting in the back of his mind since.

He can't even begin to comprehend where his mind had managed to twist all of this the entire time. It made him feel sick, embarrassed to even think about. Leon was his coworker at the least and a good friend at most. How can a single man manage to be that delusional? Twisting every little meaningless moment into a sign, a glimmer of hope for whatever deluded rom-com he thought this was.

But god, he really swore sometime that he could feel it-- really feel it.

During late nights just like this, catching up on whatever boring bureaucratic paperwork their missions came with, alone in a dimly lit office, muttering to each other like every word that left their tounge was some grave secret, leaning over desks, smiling like fools, nearly nose to nose.

"Oh."

Spain wasn't a mission either regarded fondly. They never spoke on it, not to anyone, not even to each other. Grotesque bodies twisted into horrid creatures better left to the imagination had burned itself into their brains. There was a unique sort of fear it'd conjured up in the pits of his stomach. That feeling came back every so often, waking him in a cold sweat, a shriek of fear catching in his throat as he meets his empty, desolate bedroom. It was a shit show.

"I mean, you don't have to like, tell me or anything-- I'm sorry for asking, it's not my place, I was just... I don't know."

Nauseating notions of love and affection had been harbored behind [Name]'s ribs. The lines of want and need blurred indefinitely whenever his eyes settled on Leon, whether it be the lines of his back as he moved, or the small grin he tried to force back to keep up whatever dorky 'cool guy shtick' he thought people fell for.

The impulse to let his thoughts be known, to scream and shout, to hum them through through a shakey melody, to sob them out into Leon's lap, grew stronger and stronger whenever [Name] felt the heat of Leon's body against his own. Fingers brushing together in a breath of a touch, bumping against each other as they walked, crammed together into whatever impossibly inconvenient vehicle they had at their disposal; knees knocking together, shoulders squished, broad back against chest.

And he nearly did let it all out. They'd been through many near death experiences together, yet this one was the breaking point. This one was the one that scared [Name] down to his bone.

Humid air and muggy water clung thick to his skin, sweat and lake dripping down the bridge of his nose as his hands clutched at the soggy fabric of Leon's shirt. His hair was dripping wet, a few shades darker, put cold as his head fell into [Name]'s lap. Blood violently hacked out seeped into the cracks of the blond's lips.

The boat they resided in swayed and rocked despite the earrie stillness of the water. Blood floated in clouds suspended in the water, surrounding them.

He'd dragged Leon's dead weight out of the flooding boat onto the rickety wooden platforms of the boathouse. The stentch of old, rotting fish surrounded them, yet most suffocatingly, the fear of what Leon was even going through, what he'd failed to let him in on.

[Name]'s hands stayed on Leon. An innocent hand on his chest, making sure it rises and falls, a gentle touch against the thin skin of his neck, a finger hovering over his top lip, feeling the shallow breath hit his skin.

And just like that, the second Leon came to, gasping for breath as his body lurched forward, was the same second [Name]'s mind decided it wouldn't do to hoard that aching yearn that rested heavy in his chest, like it was eating him from the inside out.

"It's fine," his tone feigns indifference, waving off [Name]'s uncertain blabbering with a wave of his hand, silencing him then and there like a well trained dog. His gaze leaves [Name] and settles back on the papers, but his pen doesn't move. "She's just a merc. Met her a few years back."

[Name] hums, fingers fiddling with the folds of his jeans stretched across his lap. He nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard he almost draws blood. He was better than this. He was more mature than this. He wasn't still some lovesick school boy fixing to throw a fit. Right?

"Yeah, that makes sense." He sounds smaller now. "I dunno, I guess I just thought the two of you were close. Guess I was wrong...?"

"Hm."

Whatever 'plan' he had conceived while trudging their way through that village, letting it furthe waste away behind thick forest had died shortly thereafter. When he saw her.

In a castle acquainted midway between opulence and decay. It stood out in comparison to whatever humble community used to reside on the other side of its stone walls, one built from rudimentary inventions, or brick and wood, of community, of labor. The castles corridors were filled with death, twisting labyrinths covered in marble and gold.

There was a dread that followed him like out of time footsteps as his feet hit the cracked floors beneath him. He tried desperately to ignore it, but it hung over his head like an omen.

It was one he should've paid more attention to, one he shouldn't have pushed to the back of his attention-- focusing instead of the suits of armor that towered over him, on the distant sounds of metal squeaking against itself, on Leon.

In spite of it all, of failure risked at every turn available, of the thick smell of dust and cobwebs, of creaking floorboards, his heart sunk only whe his eyes settled on her.

"You can stop right there, Leon." The lul of her voice was cold, almost bored, but there was a playful fondness settled in her throat.

She was gorgeous. He hated it.

A red knit dress hugged the curves of her form, its ridges following down the line of her body, sleaves following through the elegant length of her arm, stopping just where her hand met her gun.

The leather of her glove squeaked as he grip tightened, the cold barrel brushing against the fabric of Leon's shirt as she stepped closer-- a warning, a tease.

"Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" The heel of her boots clicked against the hardwood. Her hair laid effortlessly perfect, brushing against the base of her neck. It looked soft, framing her face, skin dewy, and flushed. The depths of her eyes, dark and brooding, held Leon in place without even having to face her. the candles, flame flickering against her form, made her glow.

[Name] was offered no more than a glance. He stood there, frozen, foolishly more perturbed by the familiarity held in her voice than the gun she wielded. He was no threat to her. Wide-eyed, dejected puppy dog look he gave her was evidence enough.

Leon's eyes fluttered at the sound of her voice, a deep breath sucked in between his teeth, like he hadn't been able to breathe before he heard her voice-- or maybe it was her perfume in the air. The corners of his lips twitch, teasing a grin. "Well, after six years, that's a hell of a greeting, Ada."

Leon hissed out her name like he'd rather be rid of it, but it was an obvious farce. [Name] had grown to know very well the same lilt of fondness and longing that very clearly had wrapped their stubborn hands around Leon's neck. It was obvious, even in the tiniest ways.

It made him feel sick. He just stood there and watched, lips parted like he'd ever had something useful to say in the first place. He watched like an idiot while these two... Hell, he didn't even know.

It was utterly loathsome how well they fit together. When they spoke, when they moved, predicting every breath with practiced eased-- No, not even practiced, but something else, something worse, like second nature, like it was thoughtless. They just knew.

Each strike was just narrowly ducked beneath, leather squeeked beneath a calloused grip, a hand closing around her thin wrist, pulling her close, and empty threat of a blade against her neck, the same way her finger hadn't once grazed the trigger.

"Try using knives next time." Something about Leon's hand on her nearly set [Name] off right where he stood. Ot was firm but far from harsh or cruel. It was savoring, reverent, relieving to have her skin against his, even just like this.

"Not a bad move." A grin ghosts her features. Try as she might to fight it off, it settles beneath her skin, eyes crinkling, and [Name]'s sure her pulse beneagh his hand quickens the same way his always did. "Very smooth."

"So who are you working for this time?" Even Leon's own voice carries the weight of desire. Desire not like how [Name] yearned day and night, but like light tease, like flirty smiles, like foreplay.

"Oh, Leon," his name drips of her tongue like a poem, pain and reluctant covertness and heat all heard in the breath she sighed out. Her head lulls to the side, blinking in his gaze like a cat. The look they shared more than made up for what they'd lost in the six years, whatever the hell that was even supposed to mean. "You know I don't work and tell."

Everything else feels fuzzy.

At that moment, he felt as though the castle walls were crumbling in on him, burying him beneagh rubble and dust, the ground ready to fall beneath his feat and swallow him into the earth. He wished it did.

Something about that woman was easy to get suck in someone's head. Her voice, ao soft, so painfully sensual, striking down the center of his brain like ear bleeding static he wished would stop.

Even his own gaze couldn't stop from following her form out the window, her eyes meeting his in a fleeting glace of pity. Fucking pitty.

Was he really that obvious? How desperate he wanted Leon? Hell, how desperately he wanted to be her, just in that very second? Maybe, just maybe, if he were a girl just half as pretty as her, if he had her confidence, her shiny black hair, that voice, if he were here, then maybe Leon would want him back.

He feels like a child as he keeps a lump stuck down in his throat. It's almost painful. He doesn't trust himself to not speak, for his voice to stay steady, for his desperation to not make Itself known.

His jaw clenches as his teeth grind together. Neither of them deserved the senseless anger that reared it's ugly head inside his gut, but anger was easier to feel that disappointed. He braves himself a glance towards Leon.

Leon, who without a word, picks up his discarded gun off the floor, like nothing had even happened. Whose gaze first settles on the empty window, its framed panes swinging in the breeze, the [Name]'s, and there's nothing when they finally lock.

Quick as that, the realization dawns on him. All those late nights they spent together, hours stretching into the early morning were just work, all glances were just eyes aimlessly wondering in a need to cure boredom, touches, fingers brushing, shoulders knocking, all just mistakes, all fleeting moments were just that. Fleeting moments, not meant to extend past that brief second. They meant nothing.

Whatever sappy speech he'd prepared was stuffed back down his throat. He'd sooner die than hurt himself by entertaining the idea of him and Leon, so he clutched at his chest, feeling everything writhe beneath his skin, desperate, yearning, wanting. They clugged up his lungs, swollowed back like thick tar as they crept up his throat. He'd either suffer or allow them to die behind his mouth, drowning to silence himself, letting it weigh his body down further into the ground.

He couldn't help but be relieved for all the wrong sorts of reasons when that damned island finally went up in flames. It warmed the cast sea surrounding them now, at just the safe distance from the destruction.

That sluggish mess in his chest swelled and bubbled and screamed as he saw Leon. His hair caught the glow of the rising sun stretching its rays out behind the horizon , the water reflecting back in the grayish hues of his eyes, the sleep that pulled heavy at his lids, the bags beneath them, that reluctant look of relief. A tired grin played at his features, crooked teeth peaking out behind a crumpled smile.

Leon similarly peered over his shoulder, right back at [Name] and just... Looked.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Just a lil taste

Rating:Mature Audiences Warning:Smut,fluff, mingi being a munch!!, pet names:baby;ma, fingering, oral sex (f reseving), Mingi cums in his sweats, dirty talk...mainly from Mingi

Category:F/M

Fandom:ATEEZ (Band)

Relationships: !idol Mingi x ! Black make-up artist f reader

Summary: You’re ATEEZ’s makeup artist and Mingi's girl...so it's only right he eats you out before the concert right....

The makeup room buzzed with the usual pre-soundcheck energy. I glanced at the clock, mentally reminding myself we had about an hour and half until Ateez was due on stage. My kit was spread across the vanity in front of me—foundation, powders, brushes, everything meticulously laid out to make sure Mingi looked flawless under the lights.

But of course, Mingi was determined to make things difficult.

He was perched on the couch behind me, long legs sprawled out as he twirled his phone in one hand. His gaze, though, was fixed on me. He had that mischievous smirk that always made my stomach flip, like he was up to something.

“You know,” he drawled, his deep voice like a warm hum against my back, “you look way too good to be stuck doing my makeup right now.”

I turned and raised a brow at him. “Mingi, don’t start. We don’t have time for your shenanigans.”

He sat up, leaning forward, and suddenly, he wasn’t just looking at me—he was watching me. His eyes dragged slowly from my faux locs tied up in a loose bun, to my pleated skirt that ended just above my knees. When his gaze settled on my thighs, I knew I was in trouble.

“Thick thighs save lives, huh?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

I groaned, trying to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks. “Focus, Song Mingi. Face. Makeup. Now.”

But instead of getting up, he slid off the couch and knelt on the floor, his tall frame making the move look almost absurd. At 6’1", he was towering even when on his knees, while I—at a very proud 4’10"—couldn’t help but feel ridiculously tiny in comparison.

“Mingi!” I hissed, glancing at the open door. Thankfully, everyone else was busy, but still. “What are you doing?”

He grinned up at me, hands resting on my knees. “You taste like cinnamon, you know that?”

I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Excuse me?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my bare thigh just above the top of my knee-high socks. His voice was lower this time, more intimate. “Last night. Remember?”

Oh, I remembered. And that was not the point right now.

“Mingi, we do not have time for this!” I tried to sound stern, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Baby, we’ve got plenty of time. Just a little snack before you start?”

I slapped his shoulder lightly. “I am not a snack!”

“You’re right,” he said, his tone completely serious now. “You’re the whole damn meal.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me. “You are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you.” His lips brushed against my skin again, this time lingering just long enough to make my breath hitch.

“Mingi…” I whispered, torn between pushing him away and letting him continue.

“Hmm?” He looked up at me with those puppy-dog eyes that always got him whatever he wanted.

I sighed, defeated. “Fine. Five minutes. Five. Then you’re letting me do your makeup.”

His grin widened as he gently pushed my knees apart, making space for himself. “I won’t waste a second, baby.”

his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my lace panties, his touch setting my skin on fire.

I let out a shaky breath as his middle and ring fingers worked their magic, his touch both gentle and deliberate as he drew soft whimpers from my lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips pressed just above my clit, never leaving my skin sending vibrations as his fingers moved in a rhythm that made my head spin. “So soft, so perfect… all mine.”

“Mingi,” I gasped, my grip on his hair tightening as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.

He pulled his now plump lips away from my still needy pussy only to rest his head on my inner thigh looking up at me.

“That’s it, ma,” he said, his voice low and full of pride. “Let go for me. Hmm, I know you can. Feelin your pussy clenching my fingers.

I left out a soft gasp feeling him blow cold air on my soft, puffy pussy bright before attaching his mouth back to my clit and pumping his fingers fast.

"C'mon baby, mm cum f'me yeah." I said through mumbles mouth still attached to me.

And I did, my body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over me. Mingi held me steady, his strong hands keeping me grounded as I rode out the high on his fingers and tongue.

As I came down, he looked up at me with a satisfied smirk, his fingers still resting gently on my thigh. “Feeling better now?” he asked, his tone teasing.

I nodded, my cheeks flushed as I tried to catch my breath. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my inner thigh. “And you smell so good. Like cinnamon with a hint of vanilla to baby, like a fuckin cinnamon roll.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I repeated, but my voice was breathy now, and I couldn’t stop my fingers from threading through his hair.

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, glancing up at me with a look that made my heart skip a beat.

He shifted, getting off his knees fixing his now stained sweats and standing between my legs. Burying his head in the crook of my neck giving me some slightly wet kisses while suckling harshly in some spots.

Gripping the back in my head to get more access to make room to mark more areas.

“Mingi,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re gonna mess up my locs.”

He chuckled, the sound muffled against my skin, before pulling his head from my neck, he tilted his head to kiss the top of my faux locs, lingering for just a moment. “There. All fixed.”

“You’re impossible,” I said, resting cheek on his chest, as his finger found my chin making me look up at him.

“And you love me for it.” He leaned down to kiss me softly, his lips still tasting faintly of cinnamon even after licking his lips clean of my cum.

I sighed against his lips, knowing I’d lost this battle but not entirely upset about it. “Alright, munch. Sit down so I can do your makeup.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a playful salute, settling into the chair in front of me, after helping me off the vanity.

I picked up my foundation brush and started working, he watched me with a soft smile, his hands resting on my thighs pulling me close between his legs.

“Stop trying to distract me more,” I muttered, though I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said innocently, squeezing my thigh lightly.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t move his hand. Maybe he was impossible, but he was my impossible, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[taylormarieee]

Day 14: In the Shower

Kinktober

Summary: You and Miguel get spicy in the Shower

Word Count: 664

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Shower sex, dom!miguel, fingering, breeding kink(blame @oharahive), needy!reader, P in V sex, pet names, Oral (M receiving), MDNI 18+ONLY!

Miguel loved taking showers with you. It was the best part of his day when he came back from a tiring, stressful day at the Spider Society.

"Mi Amor, join me, please" He would always ask. And like the good girl you were, you always said "yes".

You stripped of your clothes as did he. You step into the shower first feeling the warmth of the hot shower warming your skin.

He steps in and you switch places. You hear him groan as he throws his head back.

You notice his arms and his back... how tense he looks. 'God did he need a break' you thought to your self.

You slowly guide your hands up and down his arms. You massage his arms applying pressure. He groans again, his eyes fluttering closed.

You grab his loofah and pour soap on it, you lather it up under the water and rub it up and down his back. From his neck to his waist.

You turn him around and rub his chest and his stomach, he watches you intently with those beautiful intimidating eyes.

You maintain the eye contact as you slowly get on your knees to lather up his legs and thighs.

His cock is right in your face. You can already sense the smirk forming on his face as you see his hardening cock.

You grab his cock slowly pumping it. He closes his eyes biting his lip to suppress the moans wanting to leave his mouth.

You attach your pretty plump lips to his cock and slowly bob your head up and down.

"Fuck Hermosa, I love it when you do that." He groans out. He throws his head back, his hand flying strait to your head.

His grip tightens on your hair when you go faster, jerking off whatever can't fit in your mouth.

Miguel was big. Had such a pretty cock. Tip all red and leaking with pre-cum. Protruding veins all around the base. You could admire it forever.

You feel Miguel twitch in your mouth as he fucks your face. Miguel now gaining all control, uses you as a fuck toy to relieve all his stress.

"Fuck princess i'm gonna cum down this pretty little throat of yours." He whispers.

Water is getting in your eye as your mascara runs down your cheeks. He pulls out and pushes you against the wall.

You moan out as he pushes you against the wall. You grips his soft brown locs as you he thrusts himself inside you.

He groans out as he slowly bottoms out. He's so big. He is balls deep inside you. He makes you feel so full.

"Fuck hermosa, you will be the death of me." He whimpers into your neck.

"Ugh, fuck Miggy... please cum inside me." You moan as he thrusts into you at a steady pace.

"You keep squeezin me like that mi amor and i'll give you a baby." He says, that devilish smirk painted on his face.

He thrusts into you at a faster pace before letting out a groan as you let out a high pitched squeal.

You feel your orgasm wash over you like the water dripping down your skin.

Miguel fills you up to the brim with his cum deep inside your cervix.

"Fuck mi amor, keep it in there." He groans. You whimper as he fondles with the tiny bundle of nerves.

You squirm in his arms at the overstimulation. He puts you down and relents his torture on your swollen pussy.

You watch as his cum drips down your thigh and dissolves into the drain of the shower as the water carries it away.

You look up to see Miguel already staring at you lovingly grabbing onto your waist.

"God I love you princess." He says smiling. You smile back at him. 'God did he love that smile'. "I love you more Miggy." You respond back.

He kisses you lovingly before grabbing your loofah and soaping your skin.

Taglist: @oharahive @sinsandsweetness @sickyrat

[dailydoseofsluttythoughts]

Kinktober Day 2 -

- Throat fucking - Roronoa Zoro

-----

You really couldn’t help yourself.

You had been sitting in the crows nest watching Zoro pump his weights for about thirty minutes. With every set he let out a series of extremely attractive groans. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and your eyes couldn’t help but follow his bright green happy trail down to his thick bulge.

All you could think of after only a few minutes of staring was how good his cock would feel down your throat. You were obsessed with it. You wanted, no needed, to taste him.

And it seemed like he knew that too. Looking over at you with a sinister smirk pulled onto his lips. If choking on his dick was what you wanted, then that’s what you’re going to get.

He finished his set and moved to set the dumbbells down, with no signs of a struggle. Stepping over to you, he grabbed a small white towel to wipe the sweat off his body.

Fuck, you wished you could lick it off his body instead. 

He quickly plopped down next to you on the couch, spreading his legs, inviting you to take what you want. 

“You know what you want, then take it. Like the slut you are” As he spoke he brought his hand to the back of your neck, squeezing slightly. It didn’t take much persuasion to get you to submit to him. 

You hastily slid off the couch, onto your knees in front of him, rubbing your hands along his inner thighs. One of his hands tangled into your dark brown locs, grabbing a large fistfull, pulling your head back to make eye contact with him.

“Gimmie a good nut and I’ll give you a reward” He spoke, before leaning your head toward his growing erection. 

You brought your hands, which were much smaller than his own, up to hook on the hem of his sweatpants and pull them down. He wasn’t wearing any boxers. Pulling further down, you slowly released his leaking member.

His dick was as tan as the rest of his god-like body. From this angle he was glistening with sweat, seemingly sparkling as he looked down at you with lust clouded eyes. His tip leaking with salty-sweet precum. The veins running along the shaft, bulging with need. His balls are full and ready to be played with. He grabbed the base of his dick and tapped it on your glossy lips a few times.

Your baby-pink tongue came out to lick away the precum, and you leisurely pressed wet kisses down his length. Licking a wide stripe back up to his tip before popping it into your mouth.

His head tipped back onto the couch, as he let out a satisfied grunt.

Slowly, you pushed more of him into your mouth, slicking up his dick with a sinful mixture of your saliva and his pre. You started bobbing your head up and down, savoring his taste. The hand on the back of your head began to move your head in sync with the slight thrusts of his hips.

His movements were slowly getting faster and harsher, and in no time he was slamming his dick down your throat. And god did it feel good. The feeling of his thick cock pushing into your throat was unlike any other experience you’ve ever had. You especially liked the sounds he made when you constrict your throat around him, swallowing any juices he’s releasing.

Soon enough his hips had a mind of their own, moving at an insanely fast pace, giving you no room to breath. Tears have been streaming down your face for the last few minutes. And you’ve never looked more beautiful to Zoro.

He couldn’t stop the sultry smile that crept onto his face as he watched the tears roll down your face, spit covering your lips and chin. Neither of you cared to wipe it off, you looked better like this anyways.

Zoro felt a tight knot coiling in his core. His hips getting faster and sloppier as he neared his end. He gave your throat three more thrusts before coming to a stop and spilling his hot seed down your throat. 

You coud feel every pump of his cum going down your throat and you basked in the feeling.

Your craving was satisfied.

[nastylittleghouls]

Would you expand on this? Pretty please 🥵🥺

Of course 👀 Sorry it took a bit to respond. Thoughts were thoughting and it kinda ran away with me into a slightly different direction and then I forgot to post before I fell asleep 😂

Context: This video.

AO3 for the so inclined

Anyway, …incoherent spiciness of the cum play variety under the cut. 

Swiss knows the moment Aether looms over him on stage, jerking the fretboard of his guitar over him, what he really needs. What he has been missing. Why he’s lying here on the stage floor, letting himself writhe under the fleeting burn of the sparks hitting his body. The thought alone has him press the tail end of his Hagstrom into his hardening cock for a moment longer, imagination running wild, before he pulls himself to his feet like nothing happened, turning on his heels to see which side of the stage Aether went to.

 Mind made up. Plan already forming, knowing he has to act fast. Or Dewdrop gets him first.

He can’t let him have it. It’s his. 

He follows Aether with quick steps once he spots him, cuts into his path, and ushers him into the nearest empty room with a determined look that betrays his true intentions. Muttering under his breath that it wasn’t fair to tease him like this and then just walk away. That Aether should know. Ignoring the questioning noises Aether makes in response.

Swiss wastes no time to get on his knees and cup Aether’s full, heavy balls through the sweat-wet fabric of his stage pants, massaging them roughly. His mouth already dropping open at the feeling, a pleased shudder going through him. Anticipating the taste. The smell. How he’ll positively reek of Aether. He whines. 

„Aeth….“

A low, breathy chuckle comes from above him, Aether’s words reaching his ears in the same quality. “That’s how it is? Need me to match your outside with your filthy inside so bad?”

Swiss blinks, slow. His way of stopping himself from looking away. He won‘t get it if he looks away. He has to follow the rules. Then he nods.

“Please” he chokes out, unable to keep the desperation cursing through him out of his tone.  

Aether moves to brush a loc out of Swiss face, thinks about making him wait until they’re back at the hotel when Swiss turns his head just slightly and kisses Aether‘s palm so hopeful, so desperate, eyelashes already uncharacteristically damp and….He just widens his stance. He can’t. Not tonight. 

 „Take what you need, sweetheart”

And Swiss does. His hands fly to the fastenings of Aether’s pants, yanking him closer as he still holds Aether’s heated gaze. Doesn't even look away once when he finally gets them open and drags them down around his thighs, stretching his lips over the tip of that thick cock, tonguing the fat veins at the sides as he feels it fills out in his mouth. Encouraged by Aether’s groans, the hand cupping his cheek

Swiss whimpers when the taste hits, gets stronger with every drop of pre leaking steadily into his mouth. He holds him there, relishes in it, in the stretch, before he fumbles with the golden hooks of his vest,  lets it fall open, and haphazardly rips at the button tab of his dress shirt right after when it takes him too long to get them undone. Impatient and already too single-minded to care. 

He slowly lets Aether’s cock slip from his mouth, keeps jacking him, messy fingers rubbing and pressing into that sweet spot behind his balls while he inches forward until his knees find their place between Aether’s feet, close enough that any pre drips messily onto his belly. His thighs. Nothing shall be wasted.

And Swiss gets lost in the feeling, in the way Aether matches his hand’s rhythm, how he rocks forcefully down against his fingers. Intense. Generous. Giving him what he needs. What he craves. 

Feeling Aether’s balls draw up, he tips his head back and has Aether’s release spill over his chest. His hips jerk forward in abortive little thrusts as white ribbons decorate his warm brown skin. Instantly he frees one hand to smear it around, up to his collarbones and his throat. Gets it pooling on his fingertips to rub it behind his ears. Shiny stray droplets run down his belly, catching in his hair there before he reaches down to spread them with a happy sigh as well.

Aether can only watch as Swiss’ hands roam over his glistening body, eyes closed and mouth gaping, saliva spilling over the corners. Face blissfully slack, with sweet high-pitched sounds accompanying every move as he coats his skin with Aether, a sense of calm washing over him. 

Aether finally lowers himself down in front of Swiss with an elated laugh, his hand coming up to thumb a drop Swiss somehow missed over his nipple, dragging it all the way down until he reaches the waistband of Swiss pants and pops the button out of the hole.

 „Think I missed a spot.“