#the pride and fondness in his eyes!

[indelen]

Absolutely underrated how amazing this expression is - peak Brodinsons moment.

[screampied]

#TRYNA FUCK ME I'M LIKE OKAY! g. suguru

☆ sum. suguru geto wasn’t used to losing a race, especially to a fucking rookie—but you’ve got him confused, intrigued, and… hard? long story short, ever since he hit it he’s never been the same.

wc. 6.8k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, 2 fast 2 furious references, bratty reader, rivals to lovers ( ? ), geto has a dīck piercing, big size kink, riding, he fucks you on the hood of your car, cunnīlingus, sore loser geto gets humbled lel, overstim, squīrting, dirty talk, praise, petnames.

an. chase atlantic inspired me again </3 same au as this one.

second fucking place. he got second place and he lost to you, a newbie—the newest racer with the prettiest trendy wheels, flashy rims, and a hot pink 2001 honda s2000. stupid, stupid, the reality of losing left a sour taste in geto’s mouth. he can’t remember the last time he’s lost, ever. .

the moment he saw your car bolt in front of him at those last few milliseconds of the race with fiery pink smoke coughing from your steel pipes dusting near his front window, he just knew he lost to you. geto scoffs. “tch,” he’d mumble, slamming his car door shut, and releasing the straps of his custom-made helmet. you leaned against your slick hood, innocently fanning yourself with a pamphlet of the track’s course layout that was given to every racer before glancing at geto. he was quite tall and he looked down at you with a look of intrigue and bitter annoyance. “cheater.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow. you knew damn well who he was, suguru geto—one of the if not the best street racer in tokyo. notorious for his wins and extremly cocky ego - except this time, your win against him bruised that little detail a bit. a small grin spreads across your glossed lips before your eyes rove up and down his dark leather ripped clothes. “you said somethin’?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” he utters, bringing a gloved hand up to his face. doing so, geto tucks his sticky black tresses back inside his helmet. he’s so close, that he practically has you cornered against the hot hood of your car and his eyes stare at the medal that’s pinned near the left side of your chest. that gold medal that was supposed to be his. “besides,” and you nearly gasped once you felt your rear tap against the front of your vehicle. “your ‘riding’ could use a ‘lil work, rookie.”

you saw the look in his eyes. he’s challenging you, geto sees you as a potential threat and he wasn’t fond of losing.. ever.

it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

you don’t know why but beating one of tokyo’s top street racers made cocky pride swell right up in your chest. the same kind of cocky pride that he was used to, and damn were you a force to be reckoned with. he just had to learn that the hard way.

“do i?” you reply, reaching an arm inside of your car to twist the keys out of the ignition. with a roaring sputtering growl, your engine gradually turns off and the sounds of whirring wind fill the air.

geto’s got his hands buried in his pockets as his tall lean body stands still. he’s checking you out.

his head slightly tilts to the side with his helmet cracked open and you can feel his eyes trailing up your entire physique.

he’s studying you - trying to figure out just who this pretty girl that just dusted him in a race.

you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t idolize him just a little bit. he was well known not just in tokyo but worldwide. the fangirls loved him, and the racers despised him with envy.

beating the suguru geto was a rare fever dream of itself.

“or are you just upset you’re not in the spotlight for once?” brat.. though your comment made him scoff with a sly smile curling against his thin lips.

“mm. for a new racer you sure have a smart mouth,” and his eyes quickly dash toward your car.

hot pink, it even looked freshly new and painted. and just to put the icing on the cake, it also has a pretty character design painted near the sides with the addition of a cheetah print wheel.

he lost to . . that?

geto’s quietly admiring your ride though—it looked like it was straight out of a movie. once he looks down at you again, he speaks in a gruff intimidated tone, finishing his sentence. “it’s only your first win, don’t be cocky.”

“i’ll be cocky if i want,” you murmur, and there’s a loud competitive tension between you both.

people started to leave the car meeting spot until it was just the two of you. your car’s parked near one of the garages where geto’s car was coincidentally parked also. you’re still leaning against the pink hood of your car before walking up to him. you close the awkward distance between you both, being just a few inches apart.

you’re bold, and he liked your spunk although he’d never flat-out admit it.

just . . . who were you?

geto didn’t like losing—that’s already been established. but now, he’s starting to realize he probably has to deal with you in future races, and oh- he knew you were gonna be a problem.

and he was right, because perhaps he’d finally met his match.

“besides, even if i did cheat,” you retaliate, your tone sounding more and more coy and foxy. playfully, your arms wrap around his shoulders and you tap against his sheer black helmet that had ‘s. geto’ autographed in bold purple near the other shell. vexed, mousy eyes glare at you through the protective gear and you lean up all the way close. “what are you gonna do about it, suguru?”

famous last words,

because one moment you’re being nothing but a mere brat and the next, you found yourself bent over the hood of your pretty blush-colored honda.

well, fuck.

suguru geto didn’t take disrespect lightly . . although, he liked the brat in you. a nice change of pace, even though it pissed him off a bit - a lot.

“s- shit,” you gasp, feeling your thighs squeeze together. geto’s domineering aura sends you chills, the kind of chills where it runs through your entire soul.

he’s so close that you could almost taste his loud cologne on your tongue. it’s a manly scent, you’d probably guess one of the main ingredients was oak moss. as you’re pondering deep in thought, still trying to get over his loud smell—a hand gingerly starts to brush down your skimpy lace-up chaps.

his touch felt good. . and sure, maybe you’ve fantasized about this exact moment once or twice while watching his races broadcasted on live television. geto’s pressed up against you as you’re idly hunched over, biting your lip. with a huff, you’re so close to your tinted window that you were practically having a staring contest with your rosy windshield wipers. “aw. you planned to spank me over my car?”

“not exactly, pretty girl,” he tsks with a clicked tongue, and that’s when you feel it. something poking against your rear — oh, he was hard.

it was something hard and you don’t quite think it was his helmet..

that couldn’t have been anything else other than a raging boner, and it makes you smugly hum. geto groans once he feels your ass wriggling against his skin-tight leather jeans. “think you’re funny, yeah girl?”

“a bit,” you utter in a breathy tone, feeling his fingers zig-zag down the exposed straps of clothing that reveal a bit of skin. you didn’t mind his touch - in fact, you only wanted more.

the inside of the garage was widely spacious—big enough to fit your car and geto’s iconic skyline gtr. it’s a gorgeous midnight dark purple that glimmers in the dead of night, akin to a raven’s wings.

with the garage lot being empty, it was just the two of you, the witching hour steadily approaching. all that could be heard was the occasional squawks and chirps of squaking birds and loud cars honking near the far distance by the freeway. as he’s still got you pinned over, you bite your pointer finger with a cheeky hum. “hilarious even.”

but, you don’t find anything funny moments later when the street racer’s tongue is shoved right between your splayed, plush thighs.

not at all, in fact- the only ‘words’ that came from your mouth were babbling inaudible whimpers, and he made sure you’d eat your sentences… just like he’s eating out your first place cunt like the starved man he was.

with widened eyes and a stretched jaw hanging open, you stare back with a hand on your ass, giving your skin a soft squeeze. geto grunts, on his knees as you’re hauled right over your pretty decorated hood.

hell! you figured he’d ask to rematch but this..

it seemed like all he wanted to do was take out his loss on your pussy… with his second-place tongue.

and that’s just what he does too.

not that you were even complaining—suguru geto was a nasty man to no one’s surprise. he’s nasty on the road and he’s even nastier with his tongue recklessly driving up and down your slobbering twitching cunt.

you feel a crooked nose sloooowly drag its way like a trail against your entrance. geto starts near the bottom and then makes his way up, making sure to have his button nose dripping with your mess. letting off a sweet whimper, it doesn’t take long before he’s starting sucking against your swollen clit.

“hng,” a needy whine dashes from your throat, and you can already feel a shaking judder spasm between your legs. geto’s unapologetically sloppy with his mouth too. as he’s repeatedly flicking the pointed pink tip of his tongue in crazed different directions, a throaty hiccup leaves from your glued lips. “fuuck, do you usually mhm--do this to your opponents who hah, beat you?”

“only the ones with the smart fuckin’ mouths,” he replies with a quickness, taking a moment to spit right on your sticky cunt. it’s a loud ‘ptui’ and it’s a filthy slimy trail that dribbles past his lips, polishing near the creasing crevices of his mouth.

a rubber-gloved hand snakes toward the crack of your pried open thighs and he spanks your pussy, causing a cute shrieking squeal to leave out your strained cords. “also, a reminder again. you didn’t beat me. i let you win. big difference.”

“s- sure,” you sheepishly moan, feeling vapid air circle around you both.

the night was eerily and silently dead—you swallowed thickly, praying no one would see you bent over your flashy pink hood getting eaten out by one of the most famous street racers in the world. although, the thought of getting caught made you throb in a way you didn’t think it would.

he’s mean with his tongue.

geto was competitive in everything he did, including with how he ate it.

your strapped pants were pulled down along with your panties lazily sticking toward the side of your feeble quaking thighs.

within minutes his jaw would angrily ache, growing slack and locking from how it was reaching soreness - but he didn’t care.

if he didn’t win his race, the least he could do was win by eating you out…right?

geto’s designer mauve-colored helmet probably costed thousands and rests near the side of him. he took it off before he started to feast himself between your sprawled legs.

through hazed doe-like peripherals, you stare at it and admire the designs that paint across his visor.

everywhere, there’s writing and designs—and again, you spot his famous autograph that’s nearly written near the side. typical, of course, he’d autograph his helmet.

he’s suguru fuckin’ geto.

regardless though, you’re still nothin’ but a whining mess though, and as he continues to eat you out, you let off a sweet ‘ooh!’ as soon as he bites near your pearly clit.

it’s soft and tender, but it still makes you babble out a sobbing moan. his teeth gently nibbled against your pussy . . . leisurely slithering his tongue between your flooding flaps.

so good, each time you hear the wet smacks from his lips, you can hear geto huskily groaning out satisfying ‘mmmh’ ‘s.

it’s a feeling that makes your legs stagger within the firm hold of his hands. geto’s still wearing his gloves and each time the stretchy rubber rubs onto your skin, you moan. “fuck, fuckk,” you whine, and he’s groaning right against your sobbing cunt. his hair’s pinned back into a high messy ponytail - a few ravened strands running down the sides of his face. pretty long lashes of his were closed as he was slurping you clean.

so damn sweet . . . he wonders why he’s never seen you on the track until now. well- you were new. maybe he has seen you, but geto’s never been one to pay attention.

either way, you were a meal he didn’t wanna stop tasting, ever.

and despite the bitter taste of defeat continuously lingering on his flat tongue even still . . your cunt sprinkled a bit of flavor to it, an aftertaste of vying rivalry . .

“mmph,” he grunts, feeling you push him further into your cunt with one hand. with a twist, you turn your torso just a bit to look down at him, bringing his face further. geto’s slick wet tongue slides across your nub before he’s sloppily thrusting it in and out of your weeping flowery entrance.

you whimper once he reaches that spot, feeling a sudden heave of a breath snatch its way out from your puffed lungs. geto’s dark brows amusingly knit together and he’s already nose deep—the hooking bridge that smears against your pussy makes you nearly wail out a needy weep.

he’s smearing his face everywhere, and wet splotches of your juices started to coat his clear face.

but he doesn’t mind - geto’s always been one to get a ‘lil dirty during a match.

two slack lips munch against your clit wholly before his lengthy tongue reaches toward your winking hole. “pff,” he clicks his tongue, letting off another husky groan once he feels the tint in his pants arises.

fuck, you made him hard—even more, now that he was eating you out.

the louder you were, the more his dick twitched underneath the rough fabric of his jeans. it’s almost painful- the way his hardened bulge prods its way against the leathery fabric makes him suck his teeth. he needs you.

geto’s lips remain glued against your cunt before he uses a gloved thumb to peel your pudgy sweltering folds apart just a biiiit more.

his tongue creates a downward slope that trickles its way below your clitoral hood that’s frantically throbbing right in his mouth.

ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. . .

pulse pulse pulse after fucking pulse,

a smoky chuckle echoed from his lips as his shoulders slightly shake and fuck- it vibrates against your pussy. “god, she’s a ‘lil crybaby isn’t she,” he breathlessly mumbles as his thumb peels your soaked flaps all the way down. he’s intently staring inside, studying all the pretty nerves and your twitching nub before spitting right inside yet again.

airy cold breath fans over your nude slit and you whimper, feeling his tongue douse itself back inside. “were you drivin’ around this wet the entire time, princess?” and you moan, feeling the rubber of his palm smear a few circles around your clit. “drivin’ around, tryin’ to beat me with a pretty pussy this fuckin’ soaked?”

with a shivering whimper ghosting past your splintered lips, you snivel out a soft mewl.

“sugu—fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” and as your breath gets caught in your throat, you feel him grab a nice chunk of your ass.

at his very grip, he gives your rear a rude spank and the recoil makes him hum in amusement. so soft, the way it bounced just from his palm alone.

oh, and spanking you became his favorite thing to do, especially since you were so fucking noisy.

as a shrilling whine prepares to race out your strained esophagus, you nearly yank his head forward again, hearing him groan against your clit. “d- did you hear me? ‘m close, gonna cu—”

“yeah yeah girl, i heard you,” he swats your hand away, and the low grit that rumbles from underneath his tone makes you throb for the nth time.

geto brings a few digits up toward your cunt to rub against your runny folds, and he starts making out with your pussy - with tongue.

sloppy smacks slosh out from your crying folds and you gasp, feeling him impishly nip your clit with his teeth once more. “mmf,” and his eyes start to become low and hooded.

he’s pussy drunk, very much so.

geto eats you out until you’re abruptly coming undone on his tongue, letting off a sweet euphoric battle cry with your toes curling in your knee-high boots. fuck, and even as he’s savoring the syrupy taste that pours on his flat flushed tongue, he’s still eating you out.

with brief circular maneuvers of his tongue, he’s got you whimpering from the sensitivity. as a staticky twinge pulses through your pussy, your hand grabs at his hair hard, tugging near his roots, having to literally pry him apart.

your cunt was so sensitive, throbbing a plethora of pulses as your mouth fatally goes dry. “f- fuck,” you moan, and you can feel your legs stick together once they instinctively close shut.

“tsk. drama queen,” he soils his lips together that were now perfectly glossed from top to bottom with your juices.

oh, his chiseled chin was just shimmering with such sparkling sap that it even poured a stream down the lower part of his face. his tongue slides near the cracked corner of his right lip, and he’s just luxuriating at the treacly taste of you. if you tasted this good, maybe the second place wasn’t so bad after all. .

as he’s still lapping up his lips with a wolffish grin, geto notices you openly gawking at his bulge and he snickers, patting his fly with a gloved hand. “it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

“it’s rude to walk around with a bulge that big.”

“oh yeah? how ‘bout you fix that problem for me then, rookie?”

a brat, almost as much of a brat as you.

geto gets silenced once you slam your lips onto his, not even batting an eyelash that you’re tasting yourself on his tongue that’s swirling around yours.

it’s intense, you could feel your heartbeat start to match the exact pulsing pace from between your legs. his lips were icy, and you moaned—tasting a bit of mint that resides on his tongue.

his breath is freezing cold, it’s an almost sweet candied taste and you whine in his mouth once his hands start to roam up and down your body.

geto’s feeling you up- feeling up the pretty girl who just beat him in a race.

rough protected hands drag down your frame, taking in your curves before toying with the leather straps that droop against your pink lace-up chaps.

it’s as if even the kiss was far more competitive than the actual street race.

both desperately fought to win, swerving through each tongue like swerving lanes.

geto grunts, lightly pushing your ass back against the hood of your car. as tongues twist and tango in lewd unison, he seductively sucks on your pointed tip.

as geto’s eyes open halfway, you open yours, and he’s just staring at you with a look of feral - a carnal smug grin tweaking on each side of his lips.

“turn around again, pretty. hands on y’r hood like…this,” and once he spreads you apart, you moan once he rubs his bulge against the middle fabric of your pants. “good hah- messy girl.” his bulge was so damn hard, it felt like a brick.

the more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body ached and yearned for more.

oh..

his hands, geto kept his racing gloves on the entire time. as the stretchy rubber sensually crawls down your waist, you hear the jangling of his studded skull belt. with a few shuffles, he leans up close, pinning your hands behind your back like you were under arrest.

“just for the record again, you didn’t ‘beat’ me, you cheated,” and you scoff, feeling frigid air waft between your inner thighs. oh- here he goes again. talk about a sore fuckin’ loser.

“sur— mmph,” and he cuts you off, placing a gloved palm over your mouth.

“quiiiiet, you’ll get your turn to talk,” he cuts you off, and you let off a moan once you feel his bulbous tip smack against your sopping cunt.

it’s loud..

dozens of paps and squelches leave it right away and he plants a wet kiss near your exposed neck.

the rubs from his blushing reddened cockhead make loud noises that constantly replay through your empty mind.

“see? let her talk,” and you swallow thickly, feeling him use an extra hand to pry your legs apart further. clammy, big hands glue against the pink hood of your car before your tongue tastes the metallic fibers of his glove. “so eager. poor baby,” he coos against your ear, feeling you trying to swallow and gulp him down right away. your twitching pussy’s aching, and you can’t help the pathetic whimpers that hiccup from your lips. you even try to wriggle your ass but he rubs a hand underneath your clit. “aw, impatient are we? what’s the sayin’, princess? slow ‘n steady wins the race?”

‘okay…but i beat you,’ was what you were saying in your head… but you sort of forgot his hand was covering your mouth. duh girl.

“mmph—” you let off a muffled moan against the palm of his hand, trying to wriggle your ass against him harder.

geto lowly groans and then you groan, feeling what was a piercing that attaches toward his pre-creamed dewy frenulum. geto strokes himself a bit, fisting his cock. with hooded, jaded eyes, he watches his loose skin peel back before arising up again and he hisses. the frenulum perfectly hooks itself over his tip, and oh- how you wished you could have seen it.

you couldn’t see but, fuck did you feel it.

you’re so wet, your swollen pussy lips resemble a blossoming flower as he spreads you apart with two scissoring rubber fingers.

his dick piercing almost tickles once it starts to rub against you some more. he swipes it all against your clit, teasing it near your opening before pulling it right back out. “fuck,” you whine once he finally removes his palm from your mouth, glossy strands of your saliva coating the entirety of your hand. “h.. hurry up, suguru. ‘m gonna fall asleep at this rate.”

geto rolls his eyes, and that’s when with a semi-loud thud, your chest lands against your hood.

“oh please..” he murmurs, a brow twisting upward in annoyance. one of his hands still has its grip on your wrists and you bite your lip in anticipation.

geto’s tip leaked with creamy coating pre, and you felt remnants of it sprinkle against your entrance. with a raspy grunt, he drags his angered pierced crownhead down your drooling folds before roughly smacking it against your cunt.

more sloppy wet splats! of squelches spurt out from your folds as if it’s saying its own kind of lewd language and he grunts.

geto makes sure you’re arched over the hood of your car before whistling at your presented frame. “so damn…pretty,” and within seconds, he’s easing his way inside.

immediately, your eyes widen with your jaw collapsing down like earlier—fuck, he’s big.

from the countless times, you stared at his bulge, you figured as much. geto’s vast head had a rosy-pink tint of vermillion with how close it mirrored to being a pinkish red.

sucking in a greedy breath, he watches as he’s gradually disappearing inside of your cunt. his pierced dick made things even more sensitive, and you moan once you feel the piercing softly graze its way inside of your fluttering orifice.

pasty gummy walls welcome him, and now it’s his turn to bite his lip.

“hng, f- fuckin’ big,” you try to inhale a single breath, and he raises your leg just a bit. it now sits over your hood- and damn it, the angle he has was just brutal.

you just knew you were gonna feel him everywhere.

geto’s obelisk-like girth was wide ‘n fuckin’ tall, you felt him fully and the shaft ring that’s on top of his top continues to kiss against your sensitive throbbing nub.

prince albert to be specific!

it decorates his tip perfectly, making sure to tickle inside of you as he’s feeling you clamp down. “shiiiit,” you slur out your words in a mere whiny syllable, gasping at the curved column of his fat dick search through your walls like a maze. he’s expanding through you and you can’t help but part your lips, squealing before letting off a cute, ‘ooohh!’

your hand prints stick against the pink-stained hood of your car due to the insane amounts of perspiration and you whine once he gives you one biiiig thrust.

just one- and ah!

it rocks your world - literally.

you let off a cute squealing shriek, your legs shimmying a bit from his pressed-up weight.

“atta girl, bare ‘round me, good girl—fuck,” and the warmth you envelop his dick with makes him groan. your pussy was clingy, already so eager to devour him whole.

within a few punctuated thrusts to start, geto’s finally fucking you and each vigorous piston of his honed snatched hips makes your crossed eyes roll back in needy rapture.

his hands now stick toward your sides and you’re just whimpering from his size over and over again.

weighty inches pound into you at full speed, giving you whiplash every time as he impales your sweet greedy cunt. “fuck, mhm,” you bawl a fist against your car, gritting your teeth. riiiight there, the moment his tip smooches its way against that pretty bullseye spot, it’s over. there, he locates a spongy texture with the mushroomy pierced crown of his cock and it earns out a sobbing whimper from you. “ahng! right there, fuck. faster, there sugu.”

“right there, fuuuuck. faster there, sugu,” he mocks your whiny babbles, fully exaggerating.

to hell with him, you didn’t even sound like that but oh, did he enjoy getting on your nerves. just like you did- cute.

geto’s hefty sack smacks back against you from each nudging thrust he creates with his hips. every time, it makes him groan at how your body cutely slams back against him. with how sharp your ass pounds on his dick, those pretty wet sounds singing straight from your cunt- a sound way better than screeching tire wheels. “god, so fuckin’ warm. hah, squeezin’ all around me,” and as his irregular breathing patterns pick up, he leans in to kiss a slope down your neck. “bend over just a bit more- hah. there we go, m- my good girl.”

as your chest continued to lie flat down against your car’s hood now—he’s got you at such an angle to where you feel his cock expand everywhere.

it reaches every depth and rummages through every open orifice or just about near it. “oh my god!” you whimper out, hearing the sloppy sounds of your cunt whistle through the silent night. geto’s hitting you deep, slamming his keen hips into you with such rhythm, and each time he does, your brain short circuits.

tiny invisible stars circle and float over your head as you’re completely dumbfounded, thinking about nothing but how big his cock is and the way his pierced tip just plummets its way in and out of your drooling cunt.

speaking of drooling—you were starting to drool from the slit cracks of your mouth. you couldn’t help it- his dick was out of this world, and maybe you were exaggerating but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. ever.

geto’s hastily rearranging your insides with just a few inches and it felt oh so good.

it was so good that you forgot the two of you raced together. you forgot about street racing as a whole, and instead, he had you dumb from his dick. “biiiiig fuckin’ stretch baby,” he’d grunt, starting to witness viscid stringy strands glue against each slapping thighs. geto’s dick slips out for a minute and he groans, gradually sliding himself back in.

it’s a sloppy ‘pop’ that rings between your cunt and it’s cute. you were wringing him dry, and with how wet you were, it wasn’t exactly helping things.

geto’s hot breath brushes against the open part of your neck before he gives your ass another playful swat. “fuck, that’s it. fuck back against me, don’t get lazy, uh huh. work those hips baby, f- fuck.”

as you weakly try to sway your ass into him to coordinate in sync with his crazed hips, he holds you in place—pumping inch after inch into you.

his cock sheaths inside between your syrupy-coated pussy almost effortlessly, and you let off a melodic moan the second his tip starts making out with your g-spot.

the pierced bulbous head dared to french kiss against there—making you writhe around him, on the verge of losing composure. you don’t think you’ve felt more sensitive than ever.

geto’s silvery dick piercing probes up and down your pearly clit every few seconds and he grunts at the gripping friction. “suguru…..fuuuck!” and as your words start to get bouncy, more sweet whimpers rose out of your sore throat. “more, more.”

“ungh,” he purses his lips together as he feels your cunt hungrily swallow his cock from top to bottom. with a rough pound, your ass smacks against his base—right near his tender plump testes and he groans.

such power-

even geto’s stunned for a moment, and his head throws itself back. the air surrounding you both starts to feel thick as smoke, and his eyes glance at your exposed backside that’s oh-so-pretty while arched.

all for him, and him only.

geto’s hips were simply maddened, and even he didn’t care about the race anymore.

well actually, maybe he did a little..

your pussy was brimmed with cock — sooo full, and you felt yourself starting to pant quicker and quicker. it’s as if you were having a literal street race with your breathing. geto’s getting lost inside of you, and it’s only a matter of time before his hips turn wildly sloppy.

gloved hands still reel you back into him as he’s breaking sweats within each long millisecond that passes. “pheww,” he’d wipe a sheet of sweat off his forehead, veins bulging in his beefy tatted arms. the drenching grip you had on his dick had him craving more…more of you.

the stoutness of his shaft jackhammers inside of your walls repeatedly until you’re on the verge of breaking yet again. geto grunts, the loud quick snap of his hips bringing him back to reality every time he’s about to go into another fantasm.

“fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” his words come out in a quiet rasp, and he claws a hand near the back crown of your head. “god,” his jaw tightens, and geto leans right up close to your neck, panting heavily against the outer shell of your ear. as long tangled tresses of hair freely cascade past his shoulders - all ruffled and messy from his helmet, he groans. “where do ya want it, sweetheart. tell m—”

“insideee,” you whine, barely giving him time to finish his husky words. your legs slightly raise against your headlight as it’s still stretched up and over.

geto’s still hitting you deep - so deeply good, swollen tip massaging every part of your clit and all. dozens of your toes curl up in erotic excitement as your tongue lolls out. you probably looked a sight. “inside, sugu, in- fuckin’- side.”

sassily smacking his lips together, he spanks you. “tch, dumb girl,” and the racer brings a hand to wrap around your neck. with a firm safe grip, his gloved thumb caresses a trail up your neck before he drills into you much quicker.

each snap of his hips draws out harmonic whines from you, gargled moans following out of your throat shortly afterward. the burn that’s twinging near the undersides of his thighs grows more and more intense before he geto lets out a guttural growl.

so……damn….. wet..

your flooding cunt’s slathering all over him, dripping near his base and he can’t help but snicker. “hah, fine. better hold still though.”

“fuck,” you whimper in response, feeling his sharp hips pound into you at such a pace. his rhythm was insane and there was no way in hell you could match his pace.

when it came to geto’s speed- yeah, you’d always lose. sure, you may have won today but when it came to his cock- you were losing with the hasty speed of his hips drilling into you at such miles per fuckin’ hour. .

as his turgid fat tip gives its final thrusting pumps inside of your cunt, geto’s body starts to violently shudder.

oh.. you were about to wring him dry. with a mewling slosh sound leaving the front your folds, you gush out yet again.

but at the same time…. so does he.

geto’s head remained tossed back with his round adam’s apple bobbing out of his throat. gnawing in the inside of his squishy cheek, he lets off a low grunt. his abs cockily flex through the white tee that tucks underneath his half-on leather jacket.

geto pulls out though, and it’s quick like the flash. he doesn’t finish inside to your devastated surprise, and a downturned pout forms on your lips. he huffs, watching such creamy-white amounts gush ‘n goo out in ropes and he sprays it on the outside of your pussy.

“damn,” he murmurs, feeling the awkward needy fidget of your hips. cute. darkened eyes remain on you the entire time and he grabs ahold of his veiny cock, aligning hit pierced tip against your pearled throbbing clit. “heh.. ain’t that a pretty sight,” and he smears it all against your pasty-creamed entrance.

now . . it’s painted with his color, white.

and geto came a lot because it’s still trickling out in ribbony globs, filthily oozing from the thick girthy sides and all like an erupted volcano. his teeth get caught by his quivering bottom lip as he watches such immoderate ropes of cum leave out of him. “such a- hah, messy girl,” and as he’s still lathering his sloppy seed that’s pouring out, sticking wads of splotches between the heat of your thighs, geto squeezes your ass. “awww,” he huffs breathily, noticing a few ivory stains splattered near the pink bumper of your car. “oops. might wanna clean that, sweetheart.”

hours passed . . many hours, and to say that you got fucked stupid was merely an understatement.

suguru geto had the stamina equivalent to a toyota supra MK4. his horsepower was his hips- with the added addition of his cock driving in and out of you.

but oh- you knew he wouldn’t be running out of gas soon.

or would he?

so. . many rounds, geto had you questioning your insanity the entire time, all because of his dick. if it was one thing he knew how to do, it was to fuck.

whether it involved his tongue or not, he knew how to make you feel good. it was one of the many things he excelled at, truly.

the only thing that got in the way was his cocky smug ego. every few seconds, he’d boast and remind you for the umpteenth time that your win was an unruly cheat, a hoax, or that he just couldn’t see the finish line because of your pink fucking smoke.

of course, geto didn’t say that part, that would have been him admitting that he lost the race and his pride couldn’t let him admit that he lost fair in square—

but your pussy could.

“hngh,” he falls back against your front cottony plus seat. geto grunts with a scowl entrapped in his thoughts. you pushed him - the audacity.

both of you were still sensitive but you had a tiny trick up your sleeve. “got some.. nerve,” and with low-dropped eyes, he watches you align yourself on his swollen pierced tip yet again.

he’s soft-flaccid, and he was pretty ran down. maybe now, geto was finally starting to run out of gas. with sweltering reddened lips smearing together, he watches you pick back up his expensive helmet, putting it over your head. “oh, gonna ride me while wearing my helmet, yeah? do your wors— oh.. fuck.”

his priggish words come to a not-so comedic halt the moment your cunt slams down on his cock. geto was still sensitive and he slouches back against your programming warming seat, dark eyes rolling back.

“goddamnnn,” and as your hips swerve around in circles identical to 360 car donuts, he sees you touching yourself while wearing his helmet. “fuckin’ brat—god.”

“aw,” you mock the exact faux caring tone he did to you earlier, making him touch you by bringing his shaky rubber hands toward your chest. geto’s fingers feel against the cropped top you wore, squeezing at your jiggling neglected breasts. “c’mon, sugu. i gotta guide your hands now too?”

“tch, shut up,” he groans, his heavy-sunken base sticking near your skin. dried splotches of cum glue against your sheeny ass as your hips continue to whirl ‘n rotate. you were unpredictable—you moved and jerked while he sat there with the most pussy drunken expression. geto lowly grunts, already feeling his balls starting to tighten up. he was trying to stop a sleazy grin from forming and oh.. was your cunt just making it impossible. “shit, ‘m not gonna last. s- still fuckin’ sensitive…. fuuuckk.”

the pink honda’s loud grumbling engine resounds through the echoey walls of the isolated garage with only the sounds of sheer skin slapping and a mixture of grunts following afterward. without thinking, you lift his helmet off of you, leaning in to kiss him and he returns the gesture almost right away.

geto’s lips were a tad bit delayed once they pressed onto yours. its a small yet cute detail- how he’s so pussy drink that he could barely crash his lips onto yours. as he’s moaning from your hands feeling on his burly tatted arms, his tongue sloppily delves into your mouth with no rhythm whatsoever.

maybe you were crazy, but you think you heard a whimper leave from his lips as he tried to nibble on your tongue. geto grunts, feeling that same pressure from earlier build up and fuck.. you were about to make a mess out of him . . . again!

his dick stills itself inside of you and his hands continue to roam down your body, further and further away from your jostling bouncy tits. “fuck ‘m cumminggg,” he’d moan between sultry kisses as stringy strands of saliva entangle with one another.

wetly, they form a web of sheeny lustrous cobwebs. geto’s foot rests against your bedazzled hard brake pedal before within seconds, he cums again.

this time, inside.

but it’s different this time- so so different.

it feels tenderly warm..

such hot gooey amounts dribble inside of you, spraying further inside your precious womb and you hum at the feeling.

his pierced cock fitting real nice and snug inside and you moan into his mouth, cocking your head in different directions as you trap his lips with another steamy kiss. “mmph.” a muffled whimper gets caught against your lips and you can already start to feel the whiteish searing ropes of fresh cum trail down the insides of your thighs. geto feels you slowing down on his lap—still buried balls deep, and he grunts in defeat..

soon, embarrassment overtakes him once he realizes how early he finished.

it’s a lot, again.

a thick load splatters heavily inside and past the inner lining of your cunt and he’s shivering underneath you. once you finally break away from his lips, your eyes meet his.

geto’s staring back at you, and you don’t see that cocky sly look in his eyes that everyone else sees.

right now, he looks…needy, and you think you broke him.

“what . . ?” he grouses, his hands still attached to your waist. his grip- it was gentle and tender a rubber thumb softly caressing down your curve. geto wasn’t ready for you to leave the garage, at least not yet.

“say it, pretty boy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss near his chin. your touch - it drove him mad.

never in a million years would he, suguru geto- have thought he’d get humbled by a rookie . .

humbled by you.

geto’s shooting straight daggers at you, but you can tell how flustered he is because he breaks eye contact a second later. you’re making him nervous, the same feeling he was making you at first when you had your first encounter with him.

as geto’s still warmly buried inside, he grunts once you take it upon yourself to softly wrap a hand around his throat.

oh- you were a mere tease, mimicking his exact movements from earlier. slightly wide-eyed and all, geto stares at you. and as he does—there’s that familiar glimpse of brattiness glimmering in his irises again.

you fucking turned him on..

“heh, f- fine then,” he stammers, heaving every few seconds to catch his irregular breaths. his body felt like it was on empty. no more gas left in him and that same cunning grin that plastered on his lips slowly started to fade.

geto’s not so cocky now, and in fact— he lets off a soft quiet whimper once you start to grind against his lap.

shakily, his hand squeezes your ass before finishing his sentence in a shaky defeated rasp.

“you . . fuckin’ win, sweetheart,” and you let off a sweet gasp once a loud smack! interrupts the moment, his hand swatting against your ass. “mhm,” geto grunts, “didn’t s- say stop. finish ridin’ me, sweetheart,” and his gloved finger swirls itself inside of your stuffed full cunt before pulling it right back out.

again, he’s filthy.

and even while being in such a state, geto brings his fingers up to his lips, slowly poppin’ them into his mouth before tasting the concoction mixture of both bittersweet messes. your syrupy cum and his.

quickly, he presses the tips of his rubber fingers toward his uvula, before staring at you with a greedy smug expression. he’s panting harshly, still trying to get over how you just outrode him literally, and he laps up his fingers right in front of you.

geto reclines your seat back a bit as you still straddled him, and he gives your ass its final spank before tiredly huffing,

“best- two out of three, what do ya say, r- rookie?heh..”

[thepandalion]

hot take: I think the association of being trans with the literal devil might not be a good thing to encourage

[nicoliine]

The day you noticed Lucifer was using his wings to court you.

☆彡 In birds, there is a great variety of nuptial displays at the time of courtship, especially in species that have melodious songs or show very striking plumage.

Little did you know, this would include angels or the king of hell himself.

 

☆ English isn't my first language. Sorry in advance.

☆ The reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

 

You were always fond of birds, and you dedicated much of your life to helping preserve endangered species. You studied them, spent countless hours learning about the hundreds of species, a lot of diets and their behaviors.

This didn’t seem to stop once you found yourself in Hell; in fact, once you discovered there were a bunch of sinners with bird-like features, you just seemed content to be there.

When you arrived at the Hazbin hotel, you claimed one of the spare rooms as your personal studio, and after what you have called "the toughest battle in your life," you convinced Alastor to let you have a camera "as long as you never get that frivolous technology box near me."

Husk had to ask you not so politely to stop when you first met. Before you could even take his hand, you had started to ask questions about their wings; sometimes you even wrote on an oh-so-worn notebook of yours; it became a common topic of discussion between the two of you. When you forget he has work to do and start to take multiple pictures of his wings and even try to take one of his wings when he is not looking, Angel starts to think that your bartender friend is about to lose it, and you will end with a scratch or two.

 

Besides that, one could say that your presence in the hotel was appreciated; you could be found watching some funny shows on TV with Angel and never saying no to Vaggie when she asked for a favor. Soon, you started to feel part of the hotel, and the rest of the staff agreed with that.

 ☆◦ •◦☆

Lucifer was nothing like any man you had met in life or hell; he was, to put it simply, an awkward guy, always so silly yet so elegant. He had managed to get you longing for his presence more often than you would like to admit.

You are not sure how you and Lucifer became friends, but having a shared interest in ducks seemed to help. You gave him all kinds of facts about them, and he would step by your room every so often to show you the new rubber duck he was working on. Not that you're complaining, but one of his ducks set your courtains on fire on an occasion.

Charlie says that she is proud of his "social advances,” as she used to call your interactions. Seeing him out of his office more often and having an actual conversation with someone seems to make the princess happy and less worried about her father, and if that someone turns out to be you, it is so much better!

  ☆◦ •◦☆

The first time you noticed this weird behavior of his was the day you two met. You couldn’t help but mention, after his bickering with Alastor over who was Charlie’s father figure, that you found his wings precious. Lucifer, being the prideful man he is, wasted no time on extending his wings only for your delight, a smirk on his face as he saw your eyes wide admiring that part of him; they were so magnificent, you could swear they were shining in the light of the room, and you'd die to see if the feathers were as soft as they seemed.

 

Just a simple touch, please.

 

Before returning his wings to their place, there was a flutter of his wings, so slow that there was no way someone could notice.

But you weren't just someone; you knew it. What a coincidence! You could recap an article about some birds courtship.

The second time you saw it, you were in your room minding your own business. He came to you with a smile, but your eyes were looking past him, his wings on full display as he greeted you. There, his wings started flutter again, now lasting more than the last time. Now there is no way it was just a coincidence. “My eyes are up here, darling,” he said, that smirk on his face turning into a pout as you were not paying him enough attention. You just shake your head, focus on the man before you, returning your full attention to him, and the pout on his lips dissapears immediately as your eyes are on him.

 

  ☆◦ •◦☆

You are getting crazy; every time you get a glimpse of him, you find his wings moving in an oh-so-familiar way that you could swear it was a courtship dance, every time bolder than before.

That is when you decided to confront him, getting just a chuckle from him. It made you think maybe it was just your imagination, and you finally lost your mind.

 

While sitting on the hotel balcony, Lucifer was telling you one of his ideas for this new rubber duck. He said it would be the best one he would work on so far, even though you doubted that. Then you stopped listening, your eyes fixated on his wings. Every time he looked at you, they would flutter not so subtly, distracting you from everything around you. Your head rested on your palm, almost feeling bad for not listening to his rambling.

 

"Luci, you're courting me." It was supposed to be a question, but by the way the king of hell stopped his rambling and, looking at you with wide eyes, you found that maybe it was not.

"And what would make you think that?" He said mocking you, he also rested his head in one of their hands.

 

"Your wings, the way you move them," you pointed to his wings; they stopped his movements when you mentioned it; he just chuckled, then started to laugh. Was he laughing at you? It made you want to hide yourself from him; was it your imagination? No way.

 

"So you finally notice," he then said. Once his laugh was gone, he adjusted himself on his seat. Now, with both of his hands holding his face and looking at you with a smirk, his wings started to flutter once more. "I thought it would take you less time, may I be honest"

 

"Actually, I noticed it long ago; I thought it was just my—" You felt the air leaving your lungs once he got on his feet and moved closer to you. "...Just my imagination." You were not strange to his proximity, but this time he just looked so imponent, wings on full display and fluttering around. Now it was definitely a courtship dance, and you were on the receiving end.

 

"Now, what do you think?" He hovered over you who still sitting, a hand resting on the back of your seat, taking one of your hands on his and kissing your knuckles. The kiss lasted longer than you thought was the average time for one, and even then he didn’t let go of your hand. "Was my dance enough to impress you, darling?" Now, looking into his eyes, you could only see adoration, awaiting your response.

 

You couldn't speak; you can't imagine the king of hell pulling up something like this for you.

 

"My dear, please talk to me," he pleaded, a sigh leaving his lips as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath in your skin, burning like hellfire.

 

"It was," you said, Lucifer now turning his face to look at you. You took his face in your hands and moved him closer, he gave you an inquisitive look but with no intention to move from your touch. "I should have mentioned it earlier; it was quite impressive." You smiled, and he did the same.

 

Now, how long you two kissed, you also don't remember; what you remember, however, is how he held you against him as if you were just about to disappear right then, and that when you finally got to touch his wings, you were proved wrong.

His feathers were much softer than you have imagined.

This idea came to me yesterday when my dad showed me a reel of a lady bird who epically ignored the male who was dancing to her, I felt so bad and immediately thought about Lucifer.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

[ang3licsins]

SFW: ᯓ★

olderbf!simon: who fixes things around the house that needs fixing but only asks of you to help decorate since he doesn’t know shit about interior decoration. (because if so: he’d have guns hung up in every room of the house.)

olderbf!simon: who gets confused about tiktok trends so that one trend where you set your phone in front of him and say “can you guys watch my boyfriend for me? thanks” he just stares at the phone with those big brown eyes and just stares deep into the camera and starts randomly talking about new things he’s recently bought— (guns, knives, weapons in general, etc.)

olderbf!simon: who is rough and tough around the edges but after a long deployment, he just wants to be in your arms and forget all about his time away from you and home.

olderbf!simon: who loves your body no matter if you’re chubby or skinny. he loves you for how you are and he’ll haul you up and toss you over your shoulder like you’re as light as a bag of feathers because he adores you and sees you as the most precious thing on earth. (because in his eyes, you are!)

olderbf!simon: who kisses you randomly because he feels like he doesn’t show you enough love and needs you to know that he loves you because he doesn’t want you thinking he doesn’t love you whatsoever. (because, again, you’re his precious angel.)

olderbf!simon: who wasn’t too fond of kids until one time on deployment, a little girl came up and tugged on his pants leg and made ‘grabby hands’ which he grimaced at it but swallowed his pride and picked her up and she tugged on his mask numerous of times. (you eventually got a picture from price of the scene with a message along with it stating: “aye, seems riley has tha little one intrigued.”) but after that, simon came home from deployment and was blabbing all about wanting kids because he now has baby fever.

[janumun]

Painted Red (LaDS Sylus - NSFW ABCs Headcanon]

Rated: NSFW/18+

Words: ~4k

Tags: oral, vaginal and anal sex, usage of toys, fingering, enemies to lovers dynamic/passing usage of guns, bondage, semi-public sex, improper use of Evol, switching power roles, dirty talk, masturbation, mirrors, orgasm denial, praise kink

Author’s Notes: A little treat to myself right before Sylus’ release. Please take careful note of those tags and content warnings before you proceed.

I hope you enjoy your read as much I enjoyed myself writing this!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)   

With the state of indecent disarray one usually ends up in —  quivering, drenched thighs, nerveless arms useless by your sides, a flushed face and an inability to catch your breath — after a single night spent in Sylus’ bed, aftercare is a necessity post-coitus. And fortunately, the man, damn him, knows and understands so, very well.  

And so, he has a pitcher of cold water, prepared well beforehand — even on days your dalliances are not what the two of you intend when you meet — ready and at your disposal by the bedside.  

The moment he pulls out of you, another short one spared to ensure you are still there, with him and well, he’s moving off of you. A clean robe he throws on, loose, over his body before striding over to the nightstand to pour you a glass.  

A cool, pleasant palm he eases against the back of your head to raise, as he encourages you take those big, long gulps of fluid to quench your thirst and replenish your energies. “There you go, well done,” his low baritone settling deep within your belly, your core instinctively clenching in on emptiness to hear his unexpected praise for something so very mundane.  

Truly, you do not know what this man is doing to your body and mind.  

Extra 

Sylus slides into bed with you for the remainder of your night and tucks close under the covers, for your much needed repose.  

Morning afters, you greet with a fresh shower (and on days you insist, with him), a pair of clean towels and a pressed outfit, ready for you to change into and later settle in for a healthy, fulfilling breakfast, whipped up to perfection by his personal chef. All of his house-staff, professional, discrete and well-versed in handling affairs of the Onychinus scion’s household. Whatever the two of you share within the confines of your privacy — animosities or amourous rendezvous —  remains entombed, within that very space.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)   

Sylus takes pride within his dexterity, particularly that of his limbs (...particularly that of his hands, his fingers when it comes to matters of the bedroom).  

One would hardly expect a man of his body stature to possess the nimble flexibility that resides compacted within his body. An erroneous judgment that often proves fatal to foolish foes within a fight.  

And with you, he puts that lethal agility to use: within the push of thick digits up into your clenching walls, the roughened pads of them swiftly seeking and pressing up against the spot at your frontal walls that makes you wail, makes you twist. Makes that body of yours gush against his insistent palm in an orgasm vehement enough, you see dark blanket across your eyes for the scarcity of mere seconds. Truly bringing upon you, as they call it, la petite mort. A tiny death.  

Sylus is extremely fond of your face. It’s not because of the way you look, a mere pretty face in the crowd he would simply gloss over; it’s the striking catch of your facial tells that steal his gaze and keep it captive.  

The wary intensity of your eyes the first time you laid eyes on him. 

Or the way your brow knit in firm concentration when you had him tossed to the ground, once. Nearly taking him by something almost akin to surprise, the weight of your gun, incessant, against his chest. Your mouth turning sour in restless irritation when he dared try tease at your sensibilities, a harsh knee you plunged deeper into his torso.  

The quick work of your mind — a testament of its well-endowed intellect and wit, a Hunter of good repute —  channeling brilliance in crisp words uttered from rouged lips, when the two of you, on one certain occasion, found yourselves in a particularly dire situation. One you’d agreed to accompany him to, undercover, as an associate of the Onychinus’ head.   

Truly, he has been snared with your fascinating mien since the day he laid his eyes upon you, your expressions spinning — amusing — as if placed upon a carousel, the longer he spends in your company.  

And from there on, is born a desire to witness even more.  

When you drive him back into the covers with the force of your wet kiss, parting untimely before he has the proper chance to put his tongue into your mouth and taste for himself (there will be further opportunities, he holds himself). 

The way that well-coveted, devious tongue sweeps a slow path against your upper lip —just out of reach — edge to edge. The harsh dash of red, high across your cheeks, the intensity of your breaths, untamed as his. And those beautiful eyes, a riotous mix of vexation and desire so incinerating, it turns Sylus’s cock to unbearably hard stone beneath the cleft of your ass, he bucks up against you just to see that wheeling carousel within your gaze, shift forms for him, watch that mouth swear at the exhilarating stimulation of your combined symphony, he knows, you too feel. Just for him alone.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  

Sylus enjoys the slick feeling of your skin stained by his cum; that exact moment he pulls out of your quivering walls to release himself in thick spurts down the length of your folds. Slips the head of his cock against the smears of his release, before pushing back, slow, once more into your depths.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

There is no secrecy or shame involved with a man in possession of as poised a self-assurance as Sylus; his sexual tendencies he not only owns up to and understands but has no qualms about elucidating his wants in great... obscene detail, to his partner, you.  

He wants you to be knowing exactly what it is you are doing to arouse him and exactly how to get him up to that stage.  

His palms curving about your thighs, scaffoldings of heated flesh that climb up and slink slow beneath the cut of your dress. Covetous fingers that trace delicate patterns against the lining of your panties and yet you quiver underneath that feather touch alone. “Such fine lace.” Garnet gaze, sharp, as it meets yours within the tight, much too confined space of his car. 

The chauffeur in front, separated a mere layer away from the two of you as Sylus wrenches you onto his spread lap, the firm muscle of his thighs unyielding beneath as they shift, subtle, to press you deeper against a broad chest.  

Index and middle scouring a hot, glancing path against your clothed slit before withdrawing, leaving you to scramble for purchase against the fine pressed collar of his shirt, creasing it within your hold.  

Your question snipped short with the soft, soughing whisper at your ear, voicing his true intentions. “I’d very much like a memento, to remember our evening by. Your panties...” Devious fingers pinching at the apex of your heat. “They will do well, sweetheart.” 

A moan tumbles past your lips before you can smother the sound —   you break it against the sweep of his mouth, welcoming —  at such a scandalous request, bold, without a lick of remorse. Just as the man himself.  

“I trust you will help me then, yes?” A long, tapered finger, pressing above underwear, right at your slit. Course thumb leisurely stroking its fire against that tight bead of pleasure. A rumbled groan he breaks free against your ear to feel the wanton slick of your arousal, soaking right through fabric. “That’s right, drench them well. I want your fragrance long on my gift, even after your departure.”  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  

Sylus has been out and about. He isn’t capricious enough to have changed sexual partners as frequently as the rumors around Zone N109 might paint him to have, but he is certainly no stranger to sex.  

His preference before you, usually having been for casual, short-lived, discrete dalliances, to indulge in bodily pleasures and no more beyond. With a man as committed to his goals as Sylus is, with a clear concept of how he wishes to manipulate the underworld to his liking, he does not spare much attention to subsidiary gratifications. 

With people at large, he is apathetic to that which does not catch his interest. There is very few within this world that truly does.  

And you, now, stand among those rare few treasures that have all of his attentions arrested. 

He finds himself wanting to captivate you, in turn, not just in body but mind. Truly, he finds you a fascinating being.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)  

Seated within his lap, cock nestled warm within clenching depths. 

Hair, a spread of wild locks across the coverlet, mirroring the writhing state of your sweat-drenched body underneath his, as he thrusts into you. 

Hungering fingers clawing at the expanse of his chest, down the strength of his shoulders as you furiously grind upon his cock, intoxicatedly chasing an orgasm just within reach. Strong fingers, he rushes down the length of your clenching abdomen, inquisitive palm digging just beneath your naval to feel for the vibrations that ripple across pliant skin with the vehemence of your thrusts onto his cock.  

Sylus relishes the privilege of your private, salacious unravelings, brought upon by him alone, by what he does to you and what you force out of him, for your singular pleasure. Desires heightened to witness you using his body to bring yourself to shattering ruin, it floods his veins with inebriating arousal so heavy, his body aches with the force of his want. 

As such any which way he takes or lets you take, which allows him privy to your raw, unfettered emotions rushing across your face [See above: B, Body Part] is what he enjoys most. Bringing him to completion the fastest when he is able to witness your mouth breaking apart in moans, watch sex mussed strands of hair stick to your temples, mixing in with the sweat of your body, tear-streaked pleasure smeared vivid across your cheeks. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  

Your sexual escapades are hot, often times competitive and cathartic; an unfettering of strangled desires. Bursting to the surface within the fever of your intimacy. Arduous cravings that are hardly scotched in a singular session. 

Vocal and perverse though he may be in tongue when it comes to your love-making, Sylus is not one for poetic romanticisms waxed within the bedroom. A man of action rather than ornate words. 

His regard for you exhibited in the grip of sturdy arms that clutch you back against his body, feeling for each part of you pressed against his. In the tongue that laves at sweat soaked skin in soothing mercy, from the relentless assault of his hips against your ass.  

Roughened thumbs that swab at tears from red-rimmed eyes, post-coitus, a gentle towel that skates soft down the quivering length of your ruined body before tucking it clean into fresh robes.  

The manner in which he chooses to stay close and warm your bed, instead of leaving right after, even after the fire within your veins has long cooled itself. Foregoing his own personal mandate, to never spare a single trace of himself behind.  

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  

Sylus takes exceptional care to maintain good hygiene at all times; a man who looks and smells just as good, the pleasant, sharp undertones to his cologne, having you canting your nose into the space of his neck, as you breathe. 

 Right at that tendon wrung taut with the press of your teeth into a harsh bite, to choke the scream that climbs up your throat with the hard propulsions of his cock into your depths.  

Downstairs, he is fairly clean; a shave on the regular, a mere fine dusting of ivory tracing a path from navel, downwards until it disappears beneath the stretch of his pants.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  

[Also see above: G] Choosing to bury his skewed smiles against your wet moans, the bite of restive teeth you sink into his lip, pulling it wider.  The anchor he throws forwards for both your sakes in the entwining of digits, meshing tight against the other to ride out your highs.  

Sinking a bite in farewell right above your left breast before you part, so he knows how that heart bears its frenzied beats for him alone. A reminder he leaves upon your body to ache by, until the next time he finds himself buried within you.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  

Sylus lies in possession of an exceedingly high sexual drive. And herculean, in-humane self-control to boot. Experienced though he may be, due to the course of his sexual history; he’s been able to keep his casual encounters to a minimum due to how well he is able to compartmentalize his needs.  

Overwhelming desires at times, he often spilled within the confines of an oiled fist. At others, tamping down the more primal parts of himself, until he felt it turn a necessity.  

After you, he allows himself release from that tight-fisted restraint more often. Finishing himself in white relief, trickling down his fingers on the days (...hours) he does not have your warm body to sheath into, does not have the symphony of your cries to help him along.  

Your visage in mind, sharp, jagged; he’s already expecting your next meeting with bated pleasure. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  

Sylus loves the color red on you, appreciates fiercely how becoming it is on you.

Loves to buy you dresses — scarlet as his eyes, as his desires —  to put on, when you let him. Personally ensures, first-hand, they are well-fitted, within the confines of a cosy dressing room. 

When large hands reach to flit past the split of your dress, cup about your ass, fingers drifting about your waist. “A perfect fit.”He praises, to your reflection within the body-length mirror. Skating further up your body to finger the strap of the outfit, skirting it, slow, down your shoulder. Indolent digits, index and thumb, pinching at the hardened peaks of a breast. Curving a hefty palm about the clothed flesh. “You’re a sight to behold.” 

Red, when he curls a palm in between the cleft of your legs, leaves your flesh smarting with the short, pinching grinds against an increasingly swollen clit, stimulated for hours on end. Ruby, to match the flush at your cheeks. Scarlet, down the crescent of your breasts.  

Wine, when you make his color spill with the bite of harsh teeth into his lip, bursting blood in between your mouths, as you withdraw on panting breaths.  Tipping down in willing obeisance — he gifts just to you— with the violent tug of your fingers, directing him back against your mouth. Lapping at his wound, marking him for your own.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)  

Anytime, any place, any where.  

There isn’t an authority powerful enough on Earth to stay his hand, once the two of you decide you want your bodies against each other. Sylus does not shy from an opportunity presented, and if there is none, he makes one.  

In seclusion, or in public— 

Crowds melting away the moment his fingers whip about your waist, stealing you away into private silence. The weight of his Evol has barely scattered from your shoulders, before the strength of his body replaces it, driving you back against a carved pillar. Mouth pulsing against yours in a slow, heavy kiss. Wet, hot; parting from your tongue on a conjoined string of damp pleasure, that bows and breaks under the weight of gravity.  

There isn’t a moment he does not desire you and he certainly has no specious sensibilities to appeal to, when it comes to the chance to indulge you.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)  

Curses, nothing quite turns Sylus on than to see you flourish in the place you shine best. When you are dedicated and singular-minded, in pursuit of your target. When you are forced to contend against situations far out of your control, compelled to navigate the perilous dangers that come with your line of work, be it the Tenebrae, Wanderers or something else entirely. And rise above it all, through the sheer drive you possess, a stubborn nature unable to give up on what you believe in. Not unlike his own, a kinship he finds within you.  

A desire to obtain that fire for his own. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

There is little Sylus would ever deny you. Certainly, keep from you, briefly; demands he may not fulfill immediately, in the pursuit of your combined pleasures. 

Sharing you with another, however, is a stringent boundary. 

Despite that first impression he settles, of immovable composure, he’s territorial, rather like a murder of crows, over you. Your heart, your sole focus, he desires to monopolize for his own. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  

Having your mouth on his cock is stimulating. Having your positions swapped and your ass grinding hard against the strength of his jaw, however, is what truly incinerates the blood within his veins. The leverage it bestows within his hold, to have you. Manipulate your pleasure to his liking, set the blood thrumming high within your own body.

Sturdy arms that cord about the plush of quivering thighs, garnet gaze that rolls up to capture yours, accompanying the wicked bite of teeth into the pliant flesh of your thigh. The flat of his tongue running from base to hood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.  

Relishing his victory in the slow sweep of lids falling shut, the open grin that pulls taut, with the harsh, fluttering pull of your fingers at his hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy. Signaling your utter defeat. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)  

Sylus is in it for the long game. And no matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he sees to it that he gets what he wants.  

Oh, him fracturing from that torturous tug-and-pull you’ve got going on, is but a feverish wish on your part. Sylus lives for the pleasure of your ruination, delights in the number of times he can crest you to your climax. And when not. 

Part desire, part the necessity to have you well and utterly drenched before he even thinks to breach that soft, quivering flesh. Extended periods of torturous teasing foreplay, obligatory if he is to have penetrative sex with you. His size, he understands, not an easy burden to accommodate.  

He often starts out slow; long, deep thrusts into your body as it clenches and moulds against the shape of him. Stimulated eventually enough, you drip copious against him, pleasure over-riding any remaining scraps of  fleeting discomfort entirely until you’re clawing at the sturdy strength of his back. 

Fingernails pulsing at the firm flesh of his ass, his name tumbling incoherent from a parched mouth, until he’s driving into you with the vehemence of an untethered beast. Guttural groans and whispered sighs, splintering against the give of your neck in tandem to your mounting screams. Quenched against the bite of a breast.  

Letting your desires burn in between you until the moment they’re blanketed, hours later, into the dark of night.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Sylus does not wait. When he witnesses desire pool within that provoked gaze, watches the fire that burns parched, as you seek for moisture with the slow slide of a pink tongue against your rouged lip.  

Helping you along into a dark crevice, if you’re out in public. Drawing your panties down against your thighs to reach for the place in between your legs. Roughened fingers plucking at wetness, dragging an indolent path from your slit to the apex of your sex. Curving one long, tapered digit into your clenching walls, stroking, until he brings you crashing for him.  

Proud mouth pulsing a kiss in hushed laughter against your temple, as he assists you in putting yourself back in spruced order.  

Sylus never goes the entire way, when the two of you are rushing against the clock. Ample time, he requires — and makes certain he’d have that, later — to unwrap and uncover the entirety of you, piece by piece.  

An early aperitif, however, is one he isn’t opposed to, especially when it is served, as intoxicating as you are. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)  

He’s willing and he’s game; a word from you is all he requires before granting you exactly what you desire, in spades.  

There isn’t a thing you could throw his way to turn him off you, Sylus is the kind of man to take it all in stride.  

[See also: L, N and K] 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  

Oh, he possesses a generous, infuriating amount of discipline; immovable rock in the face of obvious temptation. That does not, however, imply there isn’t a savage beast caged, restless, underneath that cool, tempered demeanor. Sylus merely maintains inhumane control over the leash of that sexuality beneath. And he knows how well to untether it too, once he allows himself to let loose his inhibitions.  

Infinite stores of stamina (for daaays), an extremely brief refractory period and an overwhelming desire to wring you dry, entirely for himself, make for a terrifying combination.  

Your hips would long break before Sylus’ cock ever begun to lose its vigor.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  

Sylus knows an opportunity when he sees one and the chance to have you utterly devastated, is one he never lets up on, and toys are just a welcome addition to his arsenal.  

Pretty little baubles, the two of you purchased together on one of your dates — a discrete, neat store tucked within one of N109’s infamous districts, the way he’d encouraged your fascinated survey of the store’s à la mode selection of vibrators and jeweled plugs, a vaguely amused smile plucking at his mouth. Pulling up every single toy that sparked your fancy for a detailed overview from the ever-present staff, more than happy to answer all your enthused questions.  

Rounding a firm hand about your waist to tug to his side, at the end of your purchase trip, breathing a sensual promise into the cleft of your ear, to let you try them all out in due time. 

And he fulfills it, in equal enthusiasm. 

Deft fingers that press up to slide against the insistent vibrations of the object settled snug into your wet walls. Toying, indolent, at the intensity of its stimulation with sporadic flicks of his Evol. Your stuttered moans clawing higher the longer he keeps you suspended within this torturous state of denial. Rejecting your babbles to let you come, that he’s been at it for hours.  

“Not yet,” he instructs, slipping a cool hand onto the shell of your hip to hold down your senseless bucking.  

It is only several, excruciating denied orgasms later does he tug free the plug at your ass, pressing his cock in lieu of its emptiness. And the way your hole clamps down in a vice at the base of him drags a shuddered, guttural groan from him. Your body stimulated so beyond sense, it drags an exhilarated laugh from his chest, in conjunction to your lost moans. 

“This is it, lovely. Are you enjoying yourself that much?” Mouth pulling wider at your vehement nods. “Do you desire more?” Sinking three fingers up to the knuckle into your pussy, without warning. A quick tug of them upwards, has his energy tinkering at the vibrator’s intensity, sending it buzzing higher and you wail your curses at him. “Hah.” He shudders above, pressing deeper against your back. “That’s it, I like those sounds.” 

“Sing higher, darling.” 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  

Oh, his craving for riling you up and goading you is infinite. 

Even when you have him physically bound and at your mercy; the gorgeous, insouciant pull of that mouth into a skewed smile —  a crafted calculation — has you feeling as if he still holds the entirety of a winning deck within those trussed hands.  

Through each singular groan, every heaving breath and grunt, a disquieting, infuriating grin tugs constant at lips that demand further of your cruelty. As if a perverse beast actually enjoying the cage it belongs in.  

The ram of a harsh heel, deep into his abdomen, has his grunting a long, gravely sound, Sylus’ body driving further into the savage crush of your shoe — pleasure so intoxicating in the knot of strong brows, that parted mouth —  it stirs fiery arousal deep within your own belly.  

Traitorous wetness trailing down the length of your thighs, arousal that Sylus convulses against the binds of his shackles for. Manages to dip forwards just enough —  the brute —  to catch the trickle of wetness against an adept tongue, at your thigh, and lap. Garnet gaze seeking and capturing yours in a haze so vicious your fingers fist harsh into his hair, in an unforgiving pull. Your moans, he steals — victorious — for himself.  

“That is surely not all you can manage to do with me, can you, darling?” 

 And you can’t be too dishonest with yourself any longer; your orgasms far more fervid and ruinous when he’s had you both dancing along to his little cat-and-mouse game for hours on end, teasing you both with the pantomime of the act. Until, finally, finally, his cock plunges past aching, swollen folds and into your drenched, clenching walls.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  

Sylus’ moans are low, licentious burrs; throaty whispers he secretes right against your ear, to turn your legs to quivering flesh. He doesn’t require his voice to rise above a certain octave, not when he has you gushing on his face with the vibrations that buffet deep into your pussy, when that pleasured rumble of his breaks right in between your legs. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  

Sylus does not care much for binding or detaining you — restraining your senses — for personal pleasure.  

He allows you use of your precious fetters and restraints, for what it does for him — an opportunity to maneuver your pleasure — and for the two of you, that is... if you can manage to bring him under, to begin with.  

It merely isn’t something that works for him, in roles reversed, when he finds himself sufficient enough to draw forth the pleasure he can achieve for the two of you, with his body alone. 

He has innumerable ways within his arsenal he can bring you to mind-numbing finish with, and he doesn’t require the comfort of a rope for that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  

Sylus’ cock is a beautiful, symmetrical thing — rather intimidating at first glance. He teaches your body to take it well, in long, pleasurable lessons. Curving, slight. towards his abdomen. A thick shaft running up into a flared glans that burns in pleasurable penetration the first time you take him in. Numerous, undulating veins along the length, that bump perfect against the surface of your tongue when you swirl around it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  

[Incredibly high as detailed at great length in J and S] 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Sleep is the farthest thing from mind when the Onychinus’ head has you tucked at last, exhausted, within his bed. His body — long programmed — hardly permitting the scope of vulnerability slumber brings, in your presence.  

And so, he puts that time to other pursuits. Often nights, choosing to watch over your sleep, carding the occasional stray strand of hair back against your ear. At others, he brings work to bed, spectacled scarlet gaze scouring over lines of text and diagrammatic compilations.  

Not choosing to desert your side, even once, throughout the entire night, protective over your own vulnerability, for as long as it lasts. 

End Notes: Once my fingers actually started on this man, I could not stop even if I wanted to. Sylus has me gripped by my very throat and that worries me greatly LOL.

If you’d like to be added to my tag list for future stories, please fill out this quick form.

[kyseya]

Yandere beast

This inspired by Beauty & the Beast.

————————————————

Yandere prince who has everything one could desire. He is royalty after all. There is nothing he cannot have and he is used to it being that way; the king and queen had spoilt him to no end.

Yandere prince who is mean and selfish. He treats everyone at the palace like dirt. He doesn’t even seem to carry much respect for his own parents. No, they’re used to give into his whims. The servants are all laughed at by him, he does not care when he sees the tears running down their faces at the cruel comments. His biggest talent may just be wickedness.

Yandere prince who does have one person he actually likes: you. You are the one exception. As the child of a servant, you too, were subjected to his bullying in the beginning. The people always had one of two reactions to him, either they stayed down and wept, or they started fuming. Both options were equally funny to the spoiled prince. However you surprised him, because you did neither. Whenever he was mean to you, you took it in silence before asking about his day. This bewildered him to no end. Why would you ask such things? It didn’t make sense. The more he bullied you though, the more intrigued he became. You were always kind, no matter the person; even to him. It was after that he decided he loved that about you.

Yandere prince who opened the door to a stranger. It was a heavy storm that night. If anyone were to be caught in it they would surely not survive. The stranger asked for shelter, and as payment the prince would receive a single rose. This made him scoff. The audacity some had. He turned them away as fast as they had come. Unfortunately for him this was no ordinary human. The stranger revealed themselves to be a magician. They told him they saw no love in his heart and therefore he should be punished for his cruelty.

That night his life changed for ever; now he was a monster. He sprouted fur all over his body, his nose grew into a long snout and a tail with spikes protruded from his lower back.

Yandere beast who has lost all his beauty. He was nothing other than hideous. Such a creature should surely be hidden out of sight. Not only did he lose his appearance that night, he also lost his status. The king and queen were horrified at his new form. This turn of event was not what they prepared for. Disgusted with him they sent him to a dreary little castle on the country side where no one would ever lay eyes on him.

Filled with despair he wallowed in shame; for his appearance and his situation. The only thing that could break the curse was if he learned to love someone and earn their love in return. Clearly, his parents did not believe the curse could be lifted, which was the reason they sent him away. They couldn’t have him at court anymore after all. Perhaps they were also glad to be rid of him once and for all.

Yandere beast who was all alone in his castle. He was left without servant or any gold. He was not used to a life without luxury. He thought he’d be alone forever and waste into nothingness, but he was surprised by you once more. You had come to the castle and chose to work there. When you’d told the king and queen of your decision they could not fathom why you would do such a thing when you were under no obligation to do it. You knew how horrible the prince was to all your colleagues, but you saw that underneath all that pride was an insecure young boy who wanted attention. It was not an excuse for his behaviour though. Still, your kindhearted nature made you want to help him.

Yandere beast who is elated with your presence. Now that he has company he is not as pessimistic. He always had a soft spot for you but now the fondness has turned into a full blown obsession. He loves you so much! When no one else was there for him and his life got turned into shamble, you stood by his side- willingly too! You weren’t frightened by his hideous form, no, you held his hand and stroked his snout without a care in the world. You were clearly the one to break the curse!

Yandere beast who does everything to make you fall for him and love him just as much as he loves you. Are you hungry? Good, because his transformation made him a great hunter! Are you in the mood for deer or rabbits? This monstrous prince can offer you a lot more than any normal prince or commoner human. No one can protect you as well as he can; his strength and sharp senses is the one upside to the curse. When the two of you marry, he’ll get back his title and whisk you away to a new castle. This one will be filled with the luxuries he bathed in before, and you’ll be forced to swim in them too whether you want to or not.

Could you ever love this beast?

[reshinless]

kiss him to shut him up ☆

summary. literally the title.

director's note. greetings disciples, i feel as though I have been FLOPPING!! so have something I'm frfr proud of, happy 1.5k disciples!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, neuvillette, dainsleif, diluc, xiao, kinich

warnings. kissing n all that sap (yuck), fluff/suggestive

albedo is busy talking to you about his latest experiments, wrapping his jacket around you to ensure you don't get cold while resting at his lab. maybe he didn't notice the sneaky glances you set from his ocean eyes to his lips.

"and so... it basically recreated a somewhat circle of-" peck! ... "huh?"

he doesn't which feeling is more dominant; flushed or confused. yet he won't complain too much, displaying a simple smile as he slowly blinks with confusion, lovingly at least.

alhaitham happened to be ranting about a drunkard he spotted at the bar he and his friends (cyno, tighnari, & kaveh) went to while playing TCG, cyno's treat.

but when it truly sinks in that you had just kissed him, he wished you had kept it for a little longer. honestly was very close to leaning back in and letting it lead to something else, but he wouldn't let his pride down. deciding on giving a smirk, and poking one of your cheeks.

"what was that for, hmm?"

capitano is secretly someone who talks a ton when you get to know him despite his cold exterior, he's very fond of getting to tell you about his day, not being able to necessarily tell anyone (other than pierro)

before you could pull away from the simple peck on his crusted lips- it's almost immediate that he pulls you back in, giving you barely any time to breathe. simply leaning in more to the kiss, a hand behind your head grasping your hair to prevent you from getting away. it's alright, he loves a chase.

"trying to tease me, my love?" a deep, dark chuckle emits from his raspy throat as he runs a hand down your spine, from your scalp to your back, his eyes pierced you with love.

childe is sooo obviously cheeky about this, his teasing is inevitable when you're the one initiating this. yet he finds himself so stunned from the whole thing, he could feel the blush creep up from his neck already.

he was busy telling you about his previous adventures, trying to impress you and show off his strength, yet the only thing he was able to see from how you looked at him, you were set on your lips on his.

"a- ahh... ahem. feeling uhh... bold i see."

wriothesley is in the category of chasing your lips, trying to immediately reel you back into the peck you caused. pulling you in by your waist so you can't escape his touch. he can't say he wasn't used to your teasing, but this time he wanted you to taste your own medicine.

holding you close, until the very line of saliva that connected both of your lips finally broke apart, it was your turn to be flushed with embarrassment.

"oh, look who's all blushy now."

neuvillette is the one who's stunned this time, yet his hands trail back to yours before you can step away a little too far, his eyes telling you everything that you need to know.

"don't run away now, c'mon..."

his smile was soft and genuine, he felt himself trying to lean in further into your touch, so he could stay asleep forever in your arms. he lands another kiss on your lips. he loves to express how much he loves you, yet he doesn't know how to apply and put it out there.

dainsleif found himself leaning back in almost immediately, he didn't wanna run away from you giving him affection out of everything. his cold fingertips trailing up your nape, a soft grasp on your hair (a bold move indeed!)

"...is that the berry flavored chapstick i bought you last week?"

he loves to notice the little things on you, he knows you appreciate it as well, a loving smile, his eyes equally just as loving, staring at you, and only you.

diluc won't admit the deep-seated embarrassment that envelops him. at first, the warm flush spread from his neck to his cheeks, yet he could notice the very same for you. trying to play it cool, his arm that encircles your waist, drawing you in with a tender grip.

"i suppose this isn’t how I imagined our evening would go,"

his voice was strained, maybe his paperwork could wait till later.

kinich is one of those who pulls you in by the waist, yet finds himself almost too flushed to go through with it. not that he doesn't want to, he's scared that you wouldn't want the same, yet he finds himself leaning in the same way you were, just to taste you again.

"leaving me so soon, you're mean."

ajaw calls you both corny as he comes back from a little walk (with certified dog walker mualani). you could hear a "human! take me back to where we whence came!" (the springs nearby) as you let out a chuckle. a sigh from kinich, he'll have to train him to be a little nicer.

xiao can barely comprehend what you just did. his cheeks flushed with teal. and to give context, it's canon that xiao's blood/insides are all teal- so when he blushes, it's teal, I did a bit of research on this :P but think of it how you will!

he argued that you shouldn't go out tonight, he can handle himself! yet... maybe your little kiss was a little.. maybe very convincing.

"y- you think this will change my mind about all of this, huh?"

[tender-rosiey]

Hii!! I would like to request a Sukuna x Reader, bcs I just love how you write him:))

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though please!

Hope you have a great day!!:))

to provoke — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: glad you like him! <3

you had always known that being with sukuna meant navigating through a maze of power plays and manipulation. his affection—if it could be called that—was far from simple.

but nothing had quite prepared you for this.

the concubines had arrived without warning, and with them, an unsettling shift in the atmosphere.

it wasn’t just their presence—it was the way they paraded through the palace, casting knowing glances in your direction, their soft laughter echoing behind closed doors.

at first, you’d ignored it, pretending their arrival hadn’t bothered you. after all, sukuna did what he wanted—always had. you were no stranger to his need to push limits, to test you.

but the whispers, the sly smiles, the way they flaunted themselves in his presence—it wore on you. each teasing glance felt like a needle, pricking at the thin veil of composure you were desperately trying to maintain.

one night, as you passed a group of them in the corridor, one of the concubines stepped forward, her lips curving into a smirk.

“he’s quite fond of us, you know,” she murmured, her tone almost sweet, but dripping with venom. “you must feel so… left out.”

her words struck you. it is one thing for sukuna to do something, but for them to think that they can even talk to you?

it seemed the bitch forgot who her queen is.

her impudence was the reason why her head was separated from her body and laid on the ground. you let out a breath, as the rest of the concubines fled the scene.

you wiped the blood of your face, eyes boring into the woman’s lifeless eyes. if sukuna wanted his concubines, fine. you wouldn’t fight for his attention. you wouldn’t play his games.

days passed. the concubines roamed the halls freely, their shrill laughter occasionally filtering through the walls as they entertained him. you found solace in avoiding them all—avoiding him

perhaps, you thought bitterly, if you stayed out of sight long enough, he'd forget you altogether. but sukuna, being who he was, had no intention of letting that happen.

“you’ve been quiet,” his voice cuts through the air one evening, startling you from your thoughts.

he stands in the doorway of your chambers, his presence filling the room with that suffocating air of dominance that never fails to make your skin prickle.

“I have nothing to say,” you reply, not bothering to look up from where you sit. your voice is even, but you know he can hear the tension lying just beneath the surface.

“oh?” he steps closer, the smirk in his voice unmistakable. “and here I thought you might have something to say about the new additions to my palace.”

your hands tighten in your lap, but you force yourself to remain calm. “they’re none of my concern, husband.”

sukuna’s laugh is low, mocking. “really? you’re not even a little bit jealous?”

you clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. this is exactly what he wants—he brought them here to provoke you, to see how far he can push before you break.

but you won’t break. not this time.

“they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” sukuna continues, his voice a lazy drawl as he leans against the wall, watching you closely. “so eager to please. so quick to obey.”

your stomach twists, but you remain silent.

“and yet…” he trails off, his gaze sharpening. “you’ve been avoiding me, wife.”

“I’ve had no reason to be around,” you mutter, finally meeting his gaze, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on you. you scowl. “and my pride will not allow me to be around a man who does not respect me.”

sukuna’s expression darkens, the amusement slipping slightly as he straightens. “is that what you think?”

you stare at him, defiant, but he only smirks again, his eyes glinting with something more dangerous now. without another word, he turns, motioning for you to follow.

confused, but unwilling to let him have the upper hand, you rise and trail after him, your steps hesitant. sukuna leads you through the palace, deeper into the dimly lit halls until you reach a secluded chamber.

he pushes the doors open with a casual flick of his wrist, revealing what lies inside.

you freeze, breath catching in your throat.

the concubines—every last one of them—lie lifeless on the floor, their bodies unnervingly still. blood pools beneath them, staining the once pristine floor. the air is thick with the scent of death.

sukuna steps inside, his voice disturbingly casual. “they served their purpose.”

you can’t speak. your mind reels, torn between shock and something else—something dark and twisted that tells you this is sukuna’s way of proving something to you. it’s not that you’re unused to carnage.

hell, you even killed one yourself.

but their bodies are so deformed beyond comprehension, they no longer look like humans.

“they were never meant to last,” he says, glancing at you with a bored expression, as if the carnage before him is nothing more than a trivial inconvenience. “did you really think they meant anything?”

the words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“you killed them?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

sukuna’s smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “of course. they were disposable.”

a twisted part of you wants to feel relief—relief that they’re gone, that the torment is over. but another part of you feels sickened by the sight, by the casual cruelty of it all.

“you’re the only one deemed my queen,” sukuna says, stepping closer until he’s looming over you, his hand gripping your chin with just enough force to make you wince. “remember that.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something else pooling in your stomach. sukuna is many things—cruel, violent, unyielding.

but in his own twisted way, this is his version of loyalty. his way of showing you that no matter how many games he plays, you’re the only one who truly matters.

you swallow hard, meeting his gaze. “and what if I leave?”

sukuna’s grin widens, his eyes narrowing with dark amusement. “you won’t.”

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[heirofnight]

it's the shadows

pairing: azriel x reader (heavily), cassian x reader, rhysand x reader

word count: 1.2k (i intended for this to be a drabble but i can't ever shut the hell up)

summary: reader is close friends with az, cass, and rhys, but is very obviously pining for azriel. the four of you are drunk and cassian just has to know which one of them would be the best in bed. sexual tension ensues. duh.

while this entire debate was absolutely ridiculous - one may argue even downright childish - you couldn't stop the grin that was spreading across your cheeks.

you couldn't remember the last time you'd laughed this hard. your stomach was aching, cheeks sore. dried tears were collecting at the corners of your eyes. there'd be a lull in the conversation, a period of time that allowed all of you to calm down and collect yourselves, before you'd inevitably meet one of their mischievous gazes and fits of laughter would begin all over again.

"seriously, y/n?," cassian inquired, voice booming. you snorted at his dumbfounded expression, at the fact that the four of you had finally calmed down, just for cass to loop back to the topic that had you all howling in laughter in the first place.

"azriel?," he continued, pointer finger gesturing towards the male sitting opposite from you in the sitting room. cassian had a half-full wine glass in his large hand, the liquid sloshing around precariously as he motioned in the shadowsinger's direction. "the motherfucker doesn't even speak!," he finished, causing you to erupt in another alcohol-induced fit of giggles.

azriel smiled warmly at the sight, shaking his head in mock exasperation at his brother's disbelief. az took a sip from the glass of wine he'd been nursing at a much slower pace compared to the rest of you.

rhys chuckled now, sitting alongside cassian on the plush sofa. he shoved the war general on his broad shoulder playfully, gesturing towards azriel himself, "he doesn't need to speak in this particular scenario, brother," he purred, his own wine sloshing within his grip.

azriel's cheeks tinted red at the implication, shifting his gaze down to his lap to hide a dimpled smirk.

"and see, that's what i'm saying," you added, throwing your hands up in agreement. you sat on the floor, upon the cushioned carpet that spread throughout the sitting room. you glanced up at azriel, a fond smile playing across your lips as you met his bashful gaze.

"he doesn't need to use words, cassian. i stand by my original statement: azriel is absolutely the most capable male in bed out of the three of you," you couldn't even finish the sentence without giggling, awestruck at cassian's ability to always turn the conversation back to this topic in particular.

you'd been close to all three of them for so long, and cassian - with his overly-competitive nature - just had to know, from a female's perspective, which male you thought would be the best in the bedroom. even though your answer was always the same: azriel.

was it because you may have been harboring feelings for the aforementioned male? perhaps. however, you didn't need to be pining after him to come to that conclusion; it felt like the obvious choice, regardless.

azriel glanced over at you with silent pride flooding his gaze, and you winked at him playfully in response. "i've got your back, az," you slurred, alcohol heavy in your veins. you reached over to poke him in the kneecap gently, and he huffed out a laugh.

"thank you, sweet," he spoke, tone gravelly, and you felt your chest grow fuzzy at the nickname he reserved just for you.

"oh, come ON," cassian scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. rhys barked out a laugh, tossing his head back against the headrest of the quilted couch.

you laughed along with rhys, sitting closer to azriel's legs now. az reached down, smoothing a section of your hair that had grown disheveled during your laughing fits throughout the evening. you were hyper-aware of his touch, and currants of electricity shot down your spine as the contact mixed with the wine in your system.

"i'm going to go out on a limb here," cassian started, pausing to take a sip from his glass. you rolled your eyes, bracing yourself for the familiar statement preparing to spill from his lips. "and i'm going to say that your opinion on this particular topic is heavily biased," he finished, knowing hazel eyes glancing from you, up to azriel, and back down to you.

you groaned in mock annoyance, flipping your hand in a dismissive gesture.

"yeah, yeah, cass, i know," you huffed out a breath, narrowing your eyes, "you're so convinced that i want to be in azriel's bed," you finished, pausing for dramatic effect before speaking further. cassian scoffed, his eyes widening slightly as if to say duh.

the alcohol was making you feel bolder than normal, and honestly, it's not like you were completely shy about your attraction towards azriel. it was a commonly known fact, one that all of you tended to play into from time to time - an inside joke, a bit.

however, while the attraction was known, you'd never confessed to any of them your very real feelings for azriel. that aspect wasn't a joke to you in the slightest.

"it's the shadows," you deadpanned, shrugging your shoulders sloppily.

cassian and rhys paused for a moment, absorbing your statement. then, they both erupted into howling laughter, and you weren't far behind them. you heard azriel's low chuckle from where he sat behind you, and he sent one of those mentioned shadows from within his twining orbit to twirl through your hair playfully.

cassian collected himself, shaking his head as he wiped his eyes.

"what kind of shit are you into, y/n?," cass wheezed out, and rhys laughed harder at his follow-up question.

you sniffled, wiping your own eyes before responding, "i mean, you really cannot blame me," you mused, gesturing towards azriel once more, "have you really not stopped to consider this at all?," you widened your eyes, stunned.

as if to prove a point, you turned your head towards azriel, locking your curious eyes with his amused ones.

"azriel, have you or have you not used your shadows on someone during sex?," you asked, extremely forward.

he almost choked at the question, cheeks turning crimson. cassian and rhys resumed their howling, but you peered at him expectantly.

he couldn't deny you an answer, not when you looked at him like that - innocent-looking wide eyes, cheeks pink from the wine. and was there a large, screaming part of him that wanted to entice you with his bedroom habits?

perhaps.

he nodded once, a dimpled smirk appearing across his pink cheeks.

"i have," he spoke, deep voice cutting through the laughter.

everyone paused at his words - you'd all half-expected him to evade the question altogether. but here he was, divulging life-altering, world-ending information that had your brain short-circuiting in one fatal blow.

the silence was deafeningly loud, and your expression shifted in a way that had azriel knowing exactly what you were thinking. your eyes had widened and glossed over, your mouth was agape. his smirk grew, forming into something more playful.

and to prove his point, he sent one more shadow your way to lightly twirl through your fingers and caress up your arm, looping around your neck gently.

cass sent a low whistle into the dead silence of the room, croaking out a laugh. "well, fuck, az," he chuckled, downing the rest of his drink.

"you win," cassian added, awestruck - shaking his head in defeat.

you didn't even hear what was happening around you, too focused on azriel - his darkened gaze as he peered down at you, and the feeling of that tendril of shadow tightening around your throat in silent challenge.

a/n: i'm so sorry. i'm spamming u with all of these ideas but hear me out, i have to get them out immediately. pls don't hate me. but this one had me sweating lmfao. sucker for sexual tension as always!!!

[xo100]

Baking cookies - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando’s best friend Y/N babysits his daughter Nina while he’s away. They bake cookies, and when Lando returns, subtle flirtation and unspoken feelings hint at something deeper between Y/N and Lando.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1546

next part

୨ৎ

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm golden glow over the cozy space. The soft hum of the oven in the background and the quiet giggles from the little girl perched on a stool by the counter filled the room with a serene warmth. It was one of those peaceful days, and even though Lando Norris wasn't home, his presence was still felt in the laughter of his four-year-old daughter, Nina.

-

Y/N stood by the counter, her hands coated in flour as she carefully measured out the ingredients for the cookie dough. Every now and then, she glanced over at Nina, who was eagerly waiting for her cue to start stirring. Nina, with her bright, curious eyes and a cascade of brown curls that matched her father’s, was the spitting image of Lando. There was no denying she had inherited more than just his looks—she had his spirit, too. Adventurous, playful, and always looking for fun, Nina had become the center of Y/N’s world, almost as much as Lando had been for as long as she could remember.

Lando had been Y/N’s best friend since they were kids, a bond that had only grown stronger through the years. But when Nina came into the picture—after her mother had left without a word—it shifted something deeper. Y/N had stepped in without a second thought, supporting Lando through the sleepless nights and the uncertainties of being a single dad. There had never been a question about it; they were a team.

"Can I stir now, Auntie Y/N?" Nina’s voice broke through Y/N’s thoughts, filled with excitement. She had been calling Y/N ‘Auntie’ for as long as she could talk, a term of endearment that made Y/N’s heart swell each time.

"Of course, sweetheart," Y/N smiled, sliding the bowl closer to Nina. She handed her the wooden spoon, watching with fondness as Nina’s tiny hands wrapped around the handle, stirring with all her might.

“Don’t spill it everywhere,” Y/N warned with a teasing lilt, knowing full well that half the flour would probably end up on the floor.

“I won't!” Nina giggled, her tongue poking out in concentration as she mixed the dough.

Y/N leaned back against the counter, wiping her hands on a towel and smiling softly. These moments were her favorite—just her and Nina, baking, chatting, and sharing in the quiet joys of life. It had become something of a tradition whenever Lando had to travel for work or attend meetings like today’s with McLaren. Y/N would come over, and they’d spend the day making cookies or cupcakes, surprising Lando when he got home. Nina loved it, and Y/N loved that Lando trusted her enough to leave his most precious person in her care.

“Do you think Daddy will like these cookies?” Nina asked, her wide eyes looking up at Y/N, full of innocence and hope.

Y/N chuckled. “Your daddy loves everything you make, Nina. You know that.”

Nina’s smile widened, her face lighting up. “He always says they're the best cookies ever!”

“That's because they are,” Y/N replied, gently patting Nina’s head. “With you being the head baker and all.”

The little girl puffed out her chest, filled with pride. “I'm the best baker! Right, Auntie Y/N?”

“The absolute best,” Y/N agreed, a warmth spreading in her chest as she watched Nina’s joy.

The sound of a door opening in the distance startled Y/N for a moment. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Lando wasn’t supposed to be home yet; he had told her he’d be gone until late afternoon.

“Daddy’s home!” Nina squealed, hopping off the stool and bolting out of the kitchen before Y/N could even react. She followed after Nina, wiping her hands on her apron as she went, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing Lando again.

Sure enough, Lando stood in the hallway, his coat half-off, a smile spreading across his face as Nina launched herself into his arms. His laughter echoed through the house, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight. He always looked happiest with Nina in his arms, her little legs wrapped around his waist as she peppered his face with kisses.

“Hey, munchkin!” Lando laughed, spinning Nina around. “I thought I was supposed to be back later?”

“Surprise!” Nina giggled. “We made cookies!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his gaze lifting to meet Y/N’s as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. His eyes twinkled with that familiar playful glint, the one that always made Y/N’s stomach do a little flip.

“Cookies, huh?” Lando grinned, setting Nina back down. “I think I’m the lucky one then.”

“They’re not ready yet, Daddy,” Nina explained, her little hands tugging at his. “Come see!”

Lando let Nina drag him into the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. Y/N busied herself by checking on the dough, hoping to distract herself from the way her heart was racing at the sight of him. She didn’t know why it still happened after all these years, but there was something about seeing Lando with Nina that made her heart ache in the best way.

“So,” Lando said, leaning casually against the counter as Nina climbed back onto her stool, “How’d it go today? Any cookie catastrophes?”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “We’re professionals, Norris. No catastrophes here.”

Lando chuckled, his eyes lingering on her a little longer than necessary. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

There it was again. That lingering look, the way his voice softened just slightly when he spoke to her, the subtle flirtation that had always danced between them but never crossed the line. It had been like this for years, an unspoken tension that neither of them addressed, and yet, Y/N couldn’t deny how it made her feel. How he made her feel.

“Daddy, can we have cookies now?” Nina interrupted, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Soon, sweetheart,” Y/N said, placing the tray in the oven. “They need a few minutes.”

Lando moved closer, standing beside Y/N as they both watched Nina eagerly eyeing the cookies. His arm brushed against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the cookies instead, but it was hard when he was this close, his presence so warm and comforting.

“Thanks for looking after her today,” Lando said softly, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart skipping another beat at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’d be fine. You’re an amazing dad, Lando.”

His smile softened, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back at her. “I couldn’t do it without you, though. Really.”

There was a vulnerability in his voice that made Y/N’s chest tighten. She had always known Lando was strong, but she also knew how much he struggled sometimes—how hard it was for him to juggle his career and being a single dad. He never said it out loud, but she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged at the end of a long day or the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at Nina, knowing she depended on him entirely.

“You’re not alone, Lando,” Y/N said gently, her hand brushing against his. “You’ll never be alone.”

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet kitchen, the warmth of the cookies filling the air, and Y/N wondered if maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to stay the way they always had. Maybe there was room for something more between them, something deeper than the friendship they’d always leaned on.

“Daddy, can we have the cookies now?” Nina’s voice broke the moment, and Y/N quickly stepped back, her cheeks flushing.

Lando cleared his throat, the playful smile returning to his face as he turned to his daughter. “Let’s see if they’re good enough.”

Y/N busied herself with plating the cookies, her mind still spinning from the closeness she had just shared with Lando. She handed a cookie to Nina, who immediately took a big bite, her eyes lighting up with joy.

“These are the best cookies ever!” Nina declared, her mouth full.

Lando chuckled, taking a cookie for himself. “You heard her, Y/N. Best cookies ever.”

Y/N smiled, watching as Lando took a bite, his eyes closing in exaggerated bliss. “I have to agree with Nina,” he said, his voice playful. “You really are the best.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled at his words. There was something so simple, so perfect about these moments—the three of them together, laughing and sharing in the little joys of life.

-

As the afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the kitchen, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where she was meant to be. With Lando and Nina, baking cookies, sharing smiles, and creating memories that were sweeter than anything they could ever pull out of the oven.

And as Lando’s hand brushed hers one more time, she realized that maybe he felt the same way too.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it. If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[mimi-croissant]

I’m thinking and I honestly kinda love what they did with Ambrosius’ first impression. He really does seem like a kind of stereotypical stuck up jock jerk, mostly because that’s the cliche when characters are literally endorsing sports drinks. We see him and think oh, the golden boy. AND especially since he was introduced right after Ballister, the underdog.

But then the next scene we see him be GOOFY, he’s impersonating the news reporters and trying to make his friend laugh and feel better. And then you’d think oh, he’s actually not a bad guy, he’s silly!

But right after that you see the SOFTER side of him, where he completely melts and says “they’re gonna love you. Like I do” and it’s like oh. He’s so SWEET.

And we keep getting that side, when he’s helping his BOYFRIEND with his armor, where he gets super overprotective of Bal, when he winks and does his WOO and we see him from Bal’s eyes, and he looks so FOND, and when he cheers for Bal with such fierce pride and it’s just !!

It also just brings up his persona/how he acts in public vs in private with people he TRUSTS (get it haha trust)

[hwallazia]

BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT – 최산

synopsis . in which san discovers a new fetish while you ride him.

pairing . choi san & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au, married!au.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 0,7k

DISCLAIMER! dom! san, sub! reader, sort of lactation (milk involved but not specifically sucking it from the source), nipple play, cow girl position, bulge kink, mocking, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, princess), too many moans and mewls, dacryphilia, basically san fucking the daylights out of reader (even though reader’s on top of him)

NIC’S NOTES yess, the title is based on billie’s lyric on “guess” how’d you know? <3 ;; also, i hate not having the time to write full-length stories so badly TT gotta survive with these little drabbles. so well, enjoy the meal babes !!

“put your back into it, yeah?”

his growl tingled your ear, hands reaching for his wide shoulders for support. you bounced up and down his length relentlessly, with no hesitation, no mercy. his hands found home in your hips which worked perfectly hard, fingers varying between lingering, fond touches and harsh grips on your flesh. your walls enveloped his cock in the most welcoming way, pulsating around him, giving him a taste of heaven.

“s-shut up,” your breathless whisper brushed his earlobe. “it’s hard when your husband has a fucking huge dick—“ you could almost continue your words. a strangled, loud moan intruding into your whiny complaint as he flattened his palm against your ass flesh, the sound of the harsh spank bouncing through the walls.

“just shut up and take it, baby.” he cooed at you mockingly, his recent action belying his honey-dripping voice, his lips finding their way up to your neck. cute love bites were spread all over the skin. “can’t be too hard now can it?”

your eyelashes swung the tears away by blinking once or twice, exhilarating pants rolled off your lips as beads of sweat were attached to your temple. you dropped your head back from the overwhelming feeling. eventually —when he grew far too impatient— he matched your pace, thrusting upwards and, therefore, reaching divine places.

“can’t do anything without my help.” his right found your bouncing breast and trapped it with his palm, his fingers immediately digging into the soft, almost pillowy flesh. “poor little princess.” he teased your nipple a little, sending to another wave of satisfaction as you melted into his touch. soon, a strange white liquid began to ooze out of the slit, resulting in san’s jaw dropping all the way down the floor, eyes wide open and dilated as he stared intently at the white essence, longing to get a taste of it oh-so-badly. the combination of his wife’s leaking tits bouncing right in front of him as his cock ramming into her insides formed a perfectly defined bulge was a sight for sore eyes. and he had the absolute pride to call it his, and only his to admire, to touch, to pleasure.

but you still were working hard on his dick, his hips still going up and down and providing him and you the most satisfying session. it wasn’t until you heard your husband speak that you realized what he was so immersed in. “fuck you’re leaking.”

“what do you mean—“ you questioned immediately and when you stared down at your sweaty body, your orbs twitched at the sight of your abdomen covered with drops of warm milk and san seemly falling in love with it. “oh my.”

you couldn’t understand why it happened right there and then, a swell of bashfulness drowning your senses and immediately stopping your movements to search for a towel or something to clean yourself up. but san paused your actions.

“what are you doing?”

“i’m sorry i’m just—looking for..” your sentence came out as fast as lightning and in parts, since you cut your words to reach for the nearest piece of fabric.

“i literally got you all covered with my cum yesterday and now you’re shy because of some milk drops?” he stated, leaving you frozen in your place. a strong blush inking your cheekbones cutely. he lifted your hips up a bit to immediately restart the game you left pending, his hard cock finding your tight, inviting hole. once again. where it belongs.

your immediate reaction was to scream, holding onto his abs to keep yourself from falling. the fast, restless pace your husband adopted pulled breathless gasps out of you, the loop of san’s name falling off your swollen lips like a mantra. his right hand abandoned your stuttering hip to meet your milk-covered nipple again, stimulating it by rubbing and pinching it. more essence and mewls poured out of you, walls compressing and pulsating frenetically around his cock as they swallowed the entire length almost sinfully. you were crying on his dick in less than a minute.

he chuckled, admiring the view. “what a shameless wife i have.”

| masterlist

[nyrasvoid]

A Knight’s Prize

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: in a tourney to decide her future, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest daughter must choose a husband. Ser Gwayne Hightower, a charming yet unexpected suitor, captures her attention.

Warnings: i don’t think there is any warning yet but it might contain smut if I write more parts (idk tho)

A/N: this is the first fanfic I have ever written so any criticism as long as it’s respectful will be accepted 🙃 btw english isn’t my first language so some expressions might not make any sense for you guys lol

- Word count: ≈1.1K

As the eldest daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon, you carried the Velaryon name with pride. At almost ten and eight years of age, you knew your time had come to marry and strengthen your house. Though your mother felt guilty about marrying you off against your will, she decided to organize a tournament, allowing you the choice in selecting your future lord husband, just like she had wanted when she was younger.

The Red Keep buzzed with anticipation as knights and lords from all over the realm gathered to compete for your hand. Among the spectators sat King Viserys, Queen Alicent, and their children, observing the events unfold. The tension between the blacks and greens was palpable, especially since Alicent had rejected the offer of Princess Rhaenyra of marrying Jacaerys to Helaena, calling her sons ‘plain featured’.

You and your brothers had always noticed the looks and whispers of the highborn lords and ladies each time you walked around the Red Keep. You sometimes resented your mother, not for finding comfort in a lover, as you very much did not care, but for finding a lover with such strong genes.

Your mother approached you as you stood in the balcony of your chambers, overlooking the field. “Are you ready, my daughter?” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination.

You nodded, your eyes scanning the assembled knights and lords below. “Yes, mother. I am very excited to marry a lord I will most possibly not be fond of and bear his heirs, for it is my duty to the realm.” You said sarcastically as you looked down sadly.

“See,” Rhaenyra said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I know that you did not ask for any of this, but it is our duty as princesses of the realm to bear heirs for the iron throne”. You looked at her “I know it is, mother. I am just scared” you paused as you took a deep breath “What if he mistreats me?”. You mother chuckled “Then you must let me know and I shall fly to you and make Syrax devour your lord husband”. You both giggled at your mother’s words, you saw her capable of it, she had always been protective of her only daughter.

As the herald announced the beginning of the tournament, you couldn't help but feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. The knights and lords paraded before you, each hoping to catch your eye and win your favor. Your gaze lingered on Ser Gwayne Hightower, the eldest son of Otto Hightower and brother of Queen Alicent. Why was he even here if Alicent had already rejected the opportunity to unite even more your houses? Wasn’t he also defeated by your uncle Daemon in a tourney years ago? It would have been funny to see Otto’s face then, the man he hated the most in the seven kingdoms, knocking his eldest son of his horse. Perhaps his father had sent him, he had always been known as an ambitious man.

The trumpets sounded, signaling the beginning of the tournament. You glanced over at Ser Gwayne, who stood confidently with his head held high. He caught your eye for a moment, and you quickly looked away, feeling a surge of irritation.

As the day wore on, you noticed Ser Gwayne’s victories. His fierce determination and honorable conduct impressed you. He fought with courage, that was both inspiring and captivating. After winning a round against a lord from a minor house you had never heard of, he approached the gallery to ask for your favour.

“Princess, it would be the greatest honor if you would grant me your favor.” He said as he took off his helmet revealing his beautiful blue eyes and charming smile “May your blessing guide me to victory in this tournament for your hand”.

You smiled in amusement “Take this flower crown, Ser Gwayne, and wear it with pride.” You reach for the flower crown resting beside you, it blooms the vibrant colors of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon. “It bears the colors of my house and the faith I have in you”. You lean forward, gently placing the flower crown on Ser Gwayne’s lance.

Ser Gwayne bows once more, his voice filled with gratitude. “I am deeply honored, my lady. With your favor, I shall strive to be worthy of your hand”

During a brief intermission, you found yourself wandering through the gardens of the Red Keep, seeking a moment of respite from the intensity of the tournament. Thinking about how your future was about to be decided by a stupid tourney. It was there were you encountered one of the knights fighting for your hand.

"Princess," he greeted, bowing deeply. "I hope the tourney is to your satisfaction."

You studied him for a moment, noting the easy charm in his smile and the glint of mischief in his eyes. "It is, Ser Gwayne. You fight well and with honor.”

"Thank you, princess," he replied, stepping closer. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to find such beauty amidst the flowers.”

“Ser Gwayne,” you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t you be resting for your next fight?”

“I find the gardens far more refreshing than the company of annoying knights,” - he steps closer “Besides, I couldn’t resist the chance to speak more privately with my future lady wife.” he says confidently.

There’s a playful spark in his eyes that makes your heart race. “You seem very confident, Ser Gwayne. Aren’t you worried about the competition?”

He leans in slightly, “The only competition that matters to me is winning your hand, princess”

You laugh softly, both flattered and intrigued. “Bold words for a knight who hasn’t yet proven himself.”

His gaze becomes more intense, a hint of cockiness in his smile. “Then perhaps I should start proving myself next round.”

Before you can respond, he gently takes your hand, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles. You could feel your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t the first time a knight or a lord kissed your hand, but this time was different, you actually felt something.

As the distant sounds of the tournament begin to echo through the gardens, you know it’s time to return. Ser Gwayne till holds your hand, as if he is reluctant to let go.

“I suppose we must go back,” you say softly.

He nods, as his eyes remain fixed on you. “Duty calls us both, it seems.” he said as he let go of your hand “But know this, Princess. My intentions towards you are sincere, it would be a great honor to marry you”

You give him a small smile, though you doubt his real intentions “Words are easy, Ser Gwayne. Proving them is the true challenge.”

“Then I shall accept your challenge, for you are worth every effort.”

You can’t help but wonder if his charm is genuine or simply a tactic. You recall the reputation of the Hightowers, a family known for their ambitions. Are Ser Gwayne’s intentions truly genuine, or is he merely following his father’s orders, seeking to gain influence through marriage?

You walk back to the main grounds of the tournament, his words echoing in your mind. ‘My intentions are sincere.’ Could it be true? Or is this just another scheme by his father, Otto Hightower, to strengthen their hold on power?

As you take your place, you steal a glance at Ser Gwyn. He catches your eye and offers a reassuring smile, but the seed of doubt has already been planted in your head.

The tournament continues, but your thoughts remain divided. You weigh the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes against the ruthless ambition of his family. Should you trust your heart, which yearns to believe in his genuine affection?

Pt. 2???

P.S. if you guys have any suggestions for part two, to improve my writing or anything you think, please let me know 🫨 Btw just in case you want to know, the lady in the picture at the beginning is Kosem Sultan, played by Beren Saat (there are others) she has great dress inspo if you want them for your DRs or fanfics.

[heejake-hoon]

Sunghoon waking up to you sucking him off(mdni)

Ask: I love love love your writing! Im not sure if you've done one where you pay sunghoon back for helping you sleep by waking him up with a Bj? if not, could I possibly request it 🥹

You wake up slowly, the morning sun filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the bedroom. Stretching languidly, you turn your head to see Sunghoon still asleep beside you, his handsome face relaxed and peaceful in slumber.

A fond smile curves your lips as memories of last night flood your mind - the way he'd touched you, tasted you, worshipped your body with his mouth and hands until you were a trembling, pleading mess beneath him. He always takes such good care of you, always seems to know exactly what you need.

And right now, seeing him like this, all tousled hair and bare skin, you know exactly what you need. Or rather, what you want to give him.

Carefully, so as not to wake him just yet, you slip out of bed and pad naked to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth and freshening up a bit, you return to the bedroom, a mischievous smile playing about your lips as you crawl back onto the mattress.

Sunghoon is still dead to the world, lying on his back with one arm thrown above his head, the sheets tangled low around his hips. Your gaze drags appreciatively over his body, from the strong line of his jaw down the elegant column of his throat, over the defined ridges of his chest and abs.

God, he's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him sometimes. And he's all yours.

Settling between his spread thighs, you lean down and press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his sternum, right over his steadily beating heart. Sunghoon stirs slightly but doesn't wake, so you continue your path downward, trailing your lips over his sleep-warm skin as your hands smooth up his sides.

When you reach his navel, you dip your tongue inside teasingly before continuing lower, nuzzling into the thin trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Sunghoon shifts again, a low sound rumbling in his chest, and you know he's starting to wake up.

Smiling to yourself, you mouth at his hip bone, sucking lightly as your hand wraps around his half-hard cock, giving him a slow, teasing stroke. That gets a reaction, Sunghoon's hips twitching up into your touch as a breathy moan escapes him.

"Y/N…" he mumbles, voice rough with sleep and arousal as his eyes flutter open to peer down at you hazily.

"Good morning," you purr, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock before swirling your tongue around the tip, gathering the bead of precum that's already leaked out. "Sleep well?"

"Fuck," Sunghoon groans, head thumping back against the pillow as you take him into your mouth properly, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat. "Y-yeah, I slept- oh god- slept fine. What are you…?"

You pull off with an obscene pop, grinning up at him impishly. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm returning the favor from last night."

And with that, you dive back in, taking him as deep as you can and hollowing your cheeks as you start to bob your head, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. Sunghoon's hands fly to your hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as he fights the urge to thrust up into the wet heat of your mouth.

You can feel him hardening further against your tongue, growing hotter and heavier with every pass of your lips. His low breathy moans and gasps are music to your ears, spurring you on as you take him deeper, relaxing your throat to accommodate his considerable size.

"Baby, fuck, your mouth," Sunghoon pants, abs flexing as he struggles to keep still. "Feels so fucking good, god, look at you. Taking me so well, shit-"

Pride and arousal swirl through you at his praise, at the knowledge that you can reduce him to a babbling mess with just your mouth. Doubling your efforts, you start to stroke what you can't fit, twisting your wrist and flicking your tongue just the way he likes.

Sunghoon's grip on your hair tightens, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as his hips start to pump shallowly, unable to hold back any longer. You moan around him, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue, and you know he's getting close.

Pulling back until just the tip rests on your tongue, you look up at him from under your lashes, holding his blown-black gaze as you start to stroke him faster, tongue swirling around the head on every upstroke.

"Come on, baby," you murmur, voice low and sultry, lips brushing over his sensitive skin with every word. "Come for me. Wanna taste you, want you to fill my mouth, c'mon Sunghoon, give it to me-"

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" Sunghoon cuts himself off with a guttural moan, his whole body going taut as his orgasm crashes over him. You work him through it, stroking and sucking and swallowing around him until he's spent, until he's pushing weakly at your shoulder because it's too much.

Pulling off, you lick your lips and crawl up his body, settling on his chest and grinning down at him smugly. Sunghoon huffs a low breathless laugh, hands coming up to rest on your hips as he shakes his head at you in amused disbelief.

"You," he says, voice still a little shaky, "are perfect for me baby."

You hum at the feeling of his hands massaging your scalp before leaning down to kiss him slow and deep. Sunghoon kisses you back lazily, licking into your mouth like he's trying to chase his own taste on your tongue.

When you finally pull back, he's looking up at you with so much tenderness, so much adoration, it makes your heart squeeze almost painfully in your chest. Cupping your face in his big hands, he strokes his thumbs over your cheekbones, touch impossibly gentle.

"I love you," he murmurs, eyes soft and warm as they search yours. "So fucking much, you have no idea."

-

A.N: I should learn how to end these drabbles, m so bad at aftercare so ignore the ending. And thanks to the annonie who sent this ask, hope you enjoy it 😊🧡🧡🧡

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭.

🎀 Traveling from nation to nation and learning the art of creating the most delicious chocolate has been a passion of yours for ages. However, upon stepping foot into the Nation of Flame, you never could have prepared yourself for the incoming wave of sweetness and obsession which was going to hit you like never before.

A/N: This story is loosely inspired by Joanne Harris' book of the same title, Chocolat. It's a book that I am very fond of and I was inspired to write this once I saw that we were able to make chocolate in Natlan, probably the best thing in the game. I am a massive chocolate enjoyer, so... Also, the fic has some minor nsfw implications, just a bit of a heads up! Apologies if Kinich is not in character, oopsie.

yandere! kinich x fem! reader.

Proud warriors, the scorching hot sun and eternal flames were the first things that came to mind whenever you would think about Natlan. As a humble Mondstadter, it never occurred to you just how rich this nation was, how welcoming the people were going to be and not to mention how this place could help you develop your love for chocolate.

Stirring the pot in front of you was no easy task as the decadent scent of delightful goodness enveloped the entire humble little hut which you occupied, the entire floor littered with pots and pans filled to the brim with your creations and some personal trinkets which you had brought for yourself along for the journey.

One of Natlan's great tribes, the Scions of the Canopy, had graciously taken you under their wing and allowed you the privilege of experiencing the culture firsthand. You let out a wistful sigh as the chocolate bubbled happily before you, the dark liquid almost looking too good to be real.

You always took pride in your skills as a chocolatier, even if you hardly considered yourself the best one in the whole entire world. An endless sky of knowledge was out there waiting for you, the voices of the unknown beckoning you to come forward and seize them with your own two hands.

You were a true Mondstadter at heart. No matter where you were or how far you traversed, the wind was always there to guide you, to show you the right path. And right now, the flow of the wind said to stay in Natlan, to finally stop and smell the roses a little.

And each rose you touched had never been as sweet.

The rose, your rose, had a name and merely thinking of him sent your heart ablaze. Messy dark hair, gorgeous dew eyes and skin so perfectly rough and tender at the same time, it made you wonder how he managed to pull off something so contradictory.

That was Kinich's charm, you supposed. Cheeky little thing, he always looked out for you ever since he saw you. Despite his dry humor and straightforward attitude, there was a certain gentle quality to him which made him so irresistible, as if he was temptation personified. Never once did he leave you alone for the entirety of your trip if it could be helped, which came as a shock to his fellow tribe members.

Looking back on it, you were foolish to not see his intentions, even more so for not paying attention to the longing glimmer in his eye and how he would trail after you like a shadow.

He was shy, at first. Unsure on how he should express his feelings, Kinich merely resorted to doing things for you, because he was simply that kind of man. Actions speak louder than words and there was no word in the dictionary which could describe the way in which his chest would tighten in pain whenever he would make eye contact with you, as if large and thorny vines had sprouted from the ground up and taken root in his soul.

You are sweeter than any chocolate you could possibly make, he whispered into your ear one evening.

A shudder came over you, your cheeks hot at the memory of that night... The moon was high and full, overtaking the pitch black sky as Kinich had pinned you to the ground, his gaze boring deeply in your own, those large eyes focused on you and only you...

Chewing your bottom lip, you stirred the pot harshly as the memory replayed in your head over and over - his grip, which was tighter than any rope imaginable, the feeling of melted chocolate which was caked over your lips and fingers, the sensation of Kinich's tongue as he licked away the sweet goodness off your body...

By the seven, this was too much.

With a huff, you turned off the fire which was lit beneath the pot, your hands shaking with excitement as you felt your entire body growing hotter and hotter, making it harder to concentrate.

Damn that Kinich. Damn him for making you feel so wonderful, so wanted, so perfect. The thought of having to leave this place, it... It bordered on anguish. Sometimes, when you were sure no one was around, you would find a dark little corner and weep quietly to yourself. It was hard to manage the massive hiccups and keep the snot away from staining your clothes at first but you managed. Like always, you would find a way to get everything back in order and all would be well once you got everything out of your system.

You had fallen for Natlan. You had fallen even more so than Kinich. Even so, the wind was picking up once more, demanding that you make your next move.

There was so little time left to enjoy everything you had built here. Therefore, your plan was to make the most of everything you possibly could.

And Kinich was more than ready to assist with that.

He hid high up in a tree as he observed you, his face schooled into that of one of his classical nonchalance and stoicism. The chance of him being spotted by anyone up here was slim but even so, he liked to play it safe.

No one needed to know the pain he was in. No one needed to be aware of his more... dubious thoughts and actions. Kinich always fancied himself as a man of action rather than flowery words. And so, he acted.

Quietly, stealthily... Perhaps even a little lethally at times.

Violence was hardly ever the answer but if anyone got in his way and refused to back down, it was his only solution then.

Kinich had a solid reputation in his tribe - he was trustworthy, he was strong. This granted him access to many things, many useful and convenient things. All he had to do was say the word and most people would keep their mouths shut if they saw him somewhere he should not be. And if his poorly veiled threats were not enough, he was more than ready to take up his weapon and fight.

It really was that easy for him.

Sneaking into your newly built home was its own beast though.

This is wrong, he would chant inside his mind over and over again. The intensity of his actions and his nonchalant persona were always at a clash with one another, constantly fighting a never ending war. He should trust you, he knows you are capable, he has no right to be doing any of this even yet... And yet, he does it anyway.

Because he knows that if he doesn't do something, he will never see you again. Kinich knows that he will lose you to the wind if he lets you slip through his fingers, he will never get to experience what it means to be touched, to be loved.

He wants to adore you in the same way people adore your delectable creations. The various statues made from chocolates, the little cacao bites, the endless sea of pralines which would be devoured so fast by the masses that he could not keep up...

Whenever he had the luxury, he liked to imagine you as one of those pralines. Perfect and oh so easy to devour, you were nothing short of excellent in his eyes. Kinich was no blind fool, he was well aware that you had your flaws as well but he cared very little about that.

He wanted the entire package. He wanted you, wrapped up in a little bow and delivered on his doorstep like the world's most precious package, a package which he could unwrap and enjoy time and time over.

Even in his hazy state of mind, he could still recall how you tasted. Licking his lips, Kinich made sure to double check that he had taken a few things from your hut which could prevent you from finishing your latest project. Yes, that was petty of him.

But he could not be bothered to care.

The wind was cruel. Whenever a gust of it would blow at him, Kinich would scowl as he knew that it meant that you would take it as a sign to leave. His hair would get tousled as he would wrap his arms around his body, the constant yapping of Ajaw did him no good either.

The clock was ticking. There was only so much he could do to keep you here. A plan needed to be formed, fast.

For now, he was going to enjoy you in every way he could. He was going to be greedy and devour you wholly whenever the opportunity arose. As Kinich balanced himself up on the massive tree branch, yet another fresh gust of wind made its way towards him. He saw the way you popped your shoulders, that all too familiar smile on your face.

You loved the wind and the wind loved you. You loved to make chocolate and were quite excellent at it too.

Despite all that, Kinich loved you more. He adored you more than the sun adored the world, he wanted you more than unlike anything else before. He cursed the Anemo Archon underneath his breath, his poor lip bloody and bruised from the amount of times he had bitten it in order to keep himself quiet.

Kinch was a man of countless deeds. And he would find a way to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. Be it Celestia or the Abyss, there was no force in this world which could destroy the endless and raging fire he felt for you.